


The Conquistador (This Version is Discontinued)

by TheGraveyardChild



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-08 10:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7754740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGraveyardChild/pseuds/TheGraveyardChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before there was kindness in the Spaniard Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, there was only cruelty. He was the dread pirate known as the Conquistador. He pillaged the seven seas and showed mercy to no one. After taking the Vargas brother prisoner on his ship, the Wandering Anna Maria, the Captain is faced with decisions that will send him through spiralling changes and very well lose him his life.</p><p>This is a SpaMano fic that takes place roughly around 1500 A.D. This is not a fluff fic. There are dark themes involved. This is piracy. I know I will not be 100% accurate, but I will try. Feel free to comment on where I’m going wrong, but remember I’m only human. I hope you enjoy.</p><p>THIS VERSION IS DISCOTINUED BECAUSE I'M REWORKING IT. LOOK AT THE OTHER VERSION PLEASE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Remember I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters from Hetalia. I only own the storyline and the events of the story. Thanks!

_ Antonio _

In a sense, everyone was alike. Everything living on Earth had similarities. The humans were all alike in the way they looked even though their species varied in race. Just as there were similarities, however, there were differences. Some were larger than others, and some were so minuscule that they were barely noticeable. In the case of a pirate captain and his Italian prisoner, the differences seemed larger than life. In reality, they were non-existent.

Stories usually start with a scene, and just as others do, so shall this one. There was a ship, rocking on the waves of the Adriatic sea. It had been sitting stationary off the coast of the mainland for some time, merely displacing water. The crew that resided on the decks worked tirelessly, cleaning the deck to their captain’s standards. They did not dare stop even though the burning sun beat down on their backs. They all feared the same man. They all feared the punishments he was rumored to inflict. They didn’t dare get caught slacking off when they were supposed to be scrubbing his beloved  _ Wandering Anna Maria _ . The ship was the captain’s pride and joy. Leaving her in disrepair was like disrespecting the captain in the worst possible way.

The captain himself was nicknamed the _ Mad Raider _ by his crew, although they never breathed a word of this in his presence. He wasn’t crazy, no. His ideas were just a little eccentric. He loved a challenge. He craved death-defying odds. He engrossed himself in it all, but that was just the way of Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. No one knew him as that, though. They simply knew him as Captain Carriedo, nothing more. Anyone else, like the civilians that feared to speak his name, gave the Captain a more fitting title. He preferred the name the people had given him, what he himself had started. He thought of himself not just as a pirate captain, but as a Conquistador. Antonio conquered. He took what he wanted. It may not have been for Spain as a whole, for their ignorant King, but it was for something. It was for his own greed, and he had no regrets.

Like any other day, Antonio walked upon the deck of his ship. A red strip of fabric was tied around his forehead and beneath his long, curling brown hair. The length of it was tied back into a low ponytail at the base of his neck. His bangs were either flattened beneath the fabric or hanging freely on top of it. A rosary was strung into the red fabric. It was a delicate object made of precious rubies, sapphires, diamonds, and emeralds. He never wore a hat unless he was sailing his ship himself or making an attempt to look fearsome and presentable. An arrangement of earrings hung from the cartilage all the way down to the lobe of his right ear. He was garbed a plain white shirt that remained untied at the neck, black pants that fell just inches below his knees, and black boots that shined in the sun. To complete his attire, he wore a long red coat. It was bright, like a rose. The fastenings were gold as were the brocade and stitching. It was his signature, the red, like the mainsail his cast when he was preparing to attack. 

The captain meandered across the deck, watching his crew clean. They gave him swift greetings as he passed, only pausing for a moment before turning back to their work. He did not respond with words. He only provided a brief nod. Antonio only remained on the deck of the ship for a moment longer before heading below deck towards the brig. Down below was his prisoner, his Italian. He met him in a northern Italian city. It was Venice to be exact. Antonio hadn’t intended to take along extra cargo the last time he visited land, but this time, unexpected circumstances arose. The captain remembered it as if it were yesterday. It was yesterday.

_ The Conquistador walked down the cobbled alleys of Venice. There weren’t many of these roads. The city was a maze of canals and waterways, but Antonio knew them well enough. He had spent many summers there with his two friends. Oh, the havoc they wreaked racing gondolas, crashing festivals and parties, and getting drunk on fancy Italian wine. That was many years ago, but not much had changed in the city. The walks he traveled were booming. It was a fantastic sight. Antonio, however, was not there to reminisce and sight see. He was there to settle a few deals, sort out a few new affairs, and possibly spend a night at an inn with one of the local girls. That was all. He could not stay long and risk exposure. As a pirate captain, he was a wanted man in many countries. Italy was one of them. It was a risk docking his small skiff in the city, but the odds of capture did not daunt him. He was fearless. _

_ People swarmed the narrow alley, so took a left into a small pavilion. People  milled about. A few painted had set up shop. One was what seemed to a set of twins. Antonio let a small smile briefly cross his lips before he walked over to a vendor who was selling food. He purchased some cuisine, but he wasn’t sure what it was. It tasted good, though. He was just waiting. His contact for the business he had in Italy had to show sooner rather than later. If not, then his dangerous trip was all in vain. Just as Antonio was about to leave the cobbled square, his contact came. _

The Turk _. He never provided his first name, and he never provided a last. He was only known as the Turk. He casually stopped beside the Conquistador and leaned against the way. _

_ “Spaniard?” the Turk asked. _

_ The captain gave a brief nod and held out a bag of coins to the man beside him. He kept his actions discreet. “For the information you provided me that led me to the treasures in the Caribbean. The rest will come from a visit to my ship. That is all I can risk carrying at the moment,” he said softly. His words were in Spanish. He wanted to risk no one overhearing their conversation. _

_ “Of course. I do have another business venture if you’d like to hear,” he said. His words were in Turkish, but Antonio understood them. The Spaniard nodded to the Turk and awaited his response. “There is a wealthy man that is said to live here. He has two grandsons, and they both live with him. The two boys are the only heirs to his fortune.” _

_ “Who are these boys?” _

_ The Turk subtly pointed across the square to the set of twins that were painting. _

_ “Their background?” the Captain asked. He looked closer at the boys. One was smiling, and the other wore a sour expression. _

_ “The younger one is the happy one. He has been living with his grandfather since he was a child. He is afraid of most everything. Won’t hurt a fly. The older one is the grumpy one. He is said to have raised himself on the streets before coming to stay with his grandfather a few months ago. A lonely and irritable child. I don’t know much about him so I couldn’t tell you what harm he could cause. I wouldn’t underestimate him,” the Turk said. _

_ “Which one does their grandfather love more?” _

_ “It seems to be the one that smiles. The older of the two just seems to be a real pain in the ass. Take one, take both. I just now that a very high price will be paid for their safe return.” _

_ The Spaniard nodded. “Their names?” _

_ “Vargas. Feliciano and Lovino Vargas.” _

Antonio was nearly at the brig. He had acquired a small meal of a tomato and half of a small loaf of bread along the way. His prisoner needed something to keep him alive until the day came when he would leave his cell. The Spaniard walked down the steps slowly, his gaze calculating. One crew member resided down below. He couldn’t quite remember his name. He, however, gestured for the man to leave. He did so without hesitation, leaving the Captain and his Italian prisoner alone.

He was skinny, muscular boy. His face was narrow and his eyes a strange mix of amber and green. His hair was a dark brown and matted with grease. One curl, however, did not seem to want to lie flat. Such an oddity. Overall, the Italian was an attractive sight to a man stranded at sea for many months at a time. The girls back in Italy must have been fond of him.

“Eat,” Antonio said, holding out the bread and the tomato. The Italian remained quiet and did not move. “I am neither a patient nor a kind man. Rather than take what I have to offer you, you’d treat me with disrespect. You can either eat the meal I’ve provided or wait for a few days until I’m feeling particularly generous once more.”

The Italian moved slowly and took the food into his tanned hands. He bit down into the tomato gently, his gaze far from the Spaniard’s.

“What is your name?” Again, the Captain was met with silence. “Answer me. What. Is. Your. Name?

“Lovino Vargas,” the boy whispered after a moment.

Lovino. So the one with the sour expression was Lovino. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

Antonio nodded briefly. This boy was young but old enough to marry. He saw no ring on his finger. There was no marriage, and from his personality, he could assume there was no engagement, either. He was only eighteen, and there was a ten-year gap between the Captain and Lovino. “You’re young, and by the look of you, you’re strong. I will give you three options that you will choose between. One, you can stay here in this cell until your grandfather buys your freedom. Two, you can work with my crew on deck. Or, three, you can be my cabin boy. The latter of the three are decided on how well I can trust that you won’t run.”

The Italian was quiet at first. “What did you do to my brother, bastard?”

“Him? He’s an enjoyable little fellow. He’s with the cook, keeping him company.”

The boy snorted. He mumbled something under his breath that the Spaniard didn’t quite catch.

“Speak up, boy,” the Captain said with a bit of lazy annoyance.

“I said... I should have remained in Romano.”

“Ah... The southern end of Italy. Yes. That probably would have been smart, but you instead came to the call of your grandfather and brother. You went North. I don’t think he even knows you’re here...” Antonio mused.

Lovino gritted his teeth and took another bite of his tomato.

“Not happy, young one?” Once again the boy did not respond to the Spaniard’s questions. “It would do you better to respond to me.”

“You’ve kidnapped me and locked me in a cage. I’m not quite sure you’d appreciate such an instance if it happened to you!” the boy snapped, hatred budding in his eyes.

“There are so much worse thing I could do to you compared to locking you in a cage. You can preach your speech on equality of man all you’d like, but there is a difference between us. I am a captain, and you are not. You are a prisoner on my ship.”

“You’re a pirate. A captain would have honor. You clearly lack that.”

“You wound me with your statements that point out the obvious. I think of myself not as a pirate, but as a Conquistador. I take what I wish, I conquer it. I have taken you, but I have yet to conquer.”

“Conquer? How could you conquer me, bastard?”

“Break your will, make you bleed. Take everything away that you keep to yourself. Your pride, your dignity,” he said. “Tell me, boy. Has another man ever touched you before?”

Lovino’s eyes widened. “Bastard, you wouldn’t dare!”

“Now that I know you’re against the notion so avidly, I might have to,” Antonio said softly. He reached his ring-covered hand through the bars of the cell and took hold of Lovino’s chin. “Your emotions are quite delicious. Take care, little Lovi.”

The Captain released the boy’s chin and stood. He left his canteen of water by the bars for the boy and turned towards the stairs. He stalked away and up the stairs with purpose and a slight swagger in his step. His crew was working the same as they had been. His ship was tidy. His prisoners were under control. Life seemed easy for the captain and his crew. That was until he saw the Italian ship on the horizon.

Antonio cursed. Nothing ever seemed to be easy for him. He did not hesitate on the thought, though. He merely began to shout orders at his crew. He had no idea if they were hostile, but it was a pirate's code to believe that every ship was hostile. He knew for a fact that they were coming closer to his beloved  _ Wandering Anna Maria.  _ There were two options. One, they were coming to arrest him for piracy. Two, they were coming to retrieve his prisoners. With or without payment, he did not know. Either way, it had to a be a hostile ship. It was too soon for his message to have reached the grandfather. He had sent it with the Turk earlier that morning after he and his most trusted crew member, his first mate and best friend’s brother, Ludwig, took the prisoners...

_ Antonio walked the shadows carefully. His blond companion walked behind him. Their goal was simple. Take the two boys quietly and without alerting any resident of their home. They lived in a large house right on the water. The German and the Spaniard had taken a gondola to get there from the ship. They were lucky the waters were calm that night. _

_ They now stood in the wake of the house. They only remained there for a moment. They had no time to waste. Their point of entry was a window on the first floor of the house. They both climbed through and ended up in what seemed to be the kitchen. It was dark and silent. The servants had already retired for the evening. Antonio crept along the floor towards the stairs that led upstairs. The house had two or three floors, and the kitchen was on of the many on the lowest. _

_ The main floor of the house was absolutely breathtaking. The ceilings were high and vaulted. The windows were draped in crimson silks. Vases and pottery lined shelves. The master of the house, Augustus Vargas, had an exquisite and expensive taste. Antonio dared not touch a thing. This was not a bedlam job. He wasn’t stealing artifacts from the home. He was merely taking his captives and escaping alive. That was it. _

_ The pair crept up the next flight of stairs onto the top most floor of the manor. They were faced with a hall with three doors. One on the left, one on the right, and a double solid wood French door at the end. Augustus had imported  _ doors _ from France. He had such expensive tastes... It was sad that he did not have better security over his home. _

_ Antonio gestured to the door on the right and motioned for Ludwig to go inside. The German gave a curt nod and slipped through the door. The Captain, on the other hand, crept towards the double doors. He unsheathed his sword and gently slid it through the handles. If something was to go awry, then Augustus would not come to the aid of his grandsons. They were to be entirely at the mercy of the Conquistador. _

The ship was less than two leagues away and gaining. Antonio did not hesitate. He was a pirate. It was his nature to come to this decision. They were going to attack without a second thought or question. There was only one ship, and it hadn’t risen a white flag of peace and surrender. They were probably outnumbered in weaponry, yes, but they had an advantage. As pirates, they played dirty. They were taking these ships over. Antonio yelled his orders: get your swords, get your guns, prepare yourself and this ship for battle. His voice thundered and his orders were followed. He had one last thing to do before following them himself. He needed to get the younger grandson of Augustus Vargas down below. Sure, it would break the kid’s happy mood to be behind bars, but Antonio had no choice. He couldn’t risk anything. These boys were precious cargo. The captain hurried across the deck towards the galley. He flew down the steps and burst into the kitchen.

“Vargas!” he called.

Antonio then stopped. The younger Vargas was sitting in the corner, his arms wrapped around his legs. Tears streaked his face, and he was mumbling something rapidly in Italian. Ludwig sat beside him, his large hand on his head, responding to the boy in broken Italian. He seemed to be comforting him. The younger Vargas must have heard the commotion on deck. He was a child. He seemed to be petrified. When both Ludwig and Feliciano saw Antonio burst in, they separated. The Italian wiped his eyes and nose roughly with his sleeves.

“Come, now! We are on the verge of attack. I need him down in the brig with his brother, and I need  _ you,  _ Ludwig, to help me prevent chaos,” Antonio ordered. When neither moved, he groaned inwardly. “Get the lead from your boots, Ludwig!” The Captain pulled the Italian to his feet roughly and shoved him forward towards the stairs. He followed the boy and shook his head, glancing back at his first mate. “Are you coming, Ludwig, or are you going to sit there in shock?”

The German nodded and followed after Antonio. Ludwig took Feliciano to the brig, and Antonio went to the helm of the ship. He could have sworn he had seen another ship materialize on the horizon from behind the first. He pulled his spyglass from his hip and peered into it. The first ship was definitely Italian. He had no doubt that it was one of the King’s own. He cursed under his breath, but a sigh of relief crossed his features when he looked at the details of the second. He recognized the foreign ship on the waters. It was Turkish. His informant and business associate was coming to attack the Italian Navy. At least he hoped. Today was going to be a long, dangerous day otherwise.

~

_ The Wandering Anna Maria _ was intact. The ship had survived with minimal damage to the wood word and sails. The beautiful carving at the hull was a little worse for wear, but it was nothing a bit of paint couldn’t fix. The Conquistador was pleased. His crew had performed well under the pressure and heavy bombardment of the Italian Navy. It was sunk with no aid from the Turk and his crew. Only one prisoner was taken, an Austrian Musician that was formerly the prisoner of the Italian Navy. He was interesting, to say the least. Interesting, but pompous and entirely irritating. He challenged the Captain’s patience as well as his authority. He seriously loved to complain about the manners of Antonio’s crew. That is why he landed his pompous rear in the brig with the Italian brothers. The musician couldn’t be near the Captain. His temper couldn’t hold that long. He knew he’d get rid of him rather quickly. Hell, he could be a gift to Gilbert. The man always said he needed a woman on board to entertain him. In the meantime, they were all staying down there until morning. They eldest Italian could possibly stay longer than the younger. He didn’t want to deal with his ornery bullshit just yet.

Antonio found himself gravitating towards the brig as his thoughts raced. The moon was high in the sky now, and only the night watch was awake. Ludwig was asleep back in his cabin. No one was there to pry into the Captain’s business, to watch his action. He slowly made his way down, his emerald eyes scanning the dark rooms below deck. There was only the light of the full moon to guide him, and even that was scarce. The night itself was brisk. A cold breeze was blowing on the Italian seas. The Spaniard pulled his red coat tighter around himself and kept on his way. Once downstairs, Antonio looked upon his sleeping prisoners. The eldest Italian lay in the glow of the moonlight, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs. He had given his blanket to his brother before they had fallen asleep. The Austrian was in the cell beside them wrapped in his own blanket. The older one, Lovino, was the only one without the protective warmth of the thin fabric. He wore only a dirty, white cotton shirt, black pants, and boots. He had no coat, nothing to protect him from the sudden chill of the night. This was all Antonio had allowed him to take that night...

_ The Conquistador opened the door on the left side of the hall and stepped into the bed chamber He closed the door with a soft click. There was a bed at the center of the room. A sleeping male lay at the center. Antonio looked him over in the moonlight. He seemed almost angelic in the peaceful way he slept. But those thoughts couldn’t cross his mind. He was here to take the boy prisoner. _

_ Antonio drew his second, more valuable sword slowly and soundlessly before bringing the tip close to the boy. Antonio placed his hand over the boy’s mouth, and he awoke with a start. His amber eyes grew wide and wild in the moonlight. _

_ “Be quiet and remain so if you wish to live...” he whispered, taking a step back from the child. “Dress quickly and make no noise. I will not hesitate to kill you if I feel you are too loud, boy.” _

_ The Italian nodded and scrambled from the warmth of his bed. He only wore a short nightshirt in these wee hours of the night. But neither male cared about modesty at that moment. The Italian merely hurried to put on a pair of black pants. He tugged the nightshirt over his head. The boy was thin but muscular. The moonlight accented his body. The Spaniard shook the thoughts from his head as the boy pulled a fresh, white shirt over his frame. _

_ “Quickly now, boy. I haven’t got all night. Hurry and remain silent...” he whispered, as the boy tugged on his boots. _

_ The Spaniard then led him from the room and into the hallway. Ludwig had the younger one with him as well. He looked scared and unsure about the pirates that were taking him away, but a look of relief crossed his features as soon as he saw his older brother. Antonio took his sword from between the handles of the grandfather’s door before heading silently down the steps. The two pirates led the boy from the safety of their home and back to the gondola. They left no trace that they had been there. Before leaving the city entirely, the Conquistador met the Turk on the dock beside his little boat. They were hidden in the shadows of the buildings. It was as if they were part of the darkness itself. Antonio left a letter with the Turk that in some way had to reach Augustus Vargas by the morning. _

_ “Take care, Turk,” Antonio said before slipping into the gondola. “I intend to see you aboard my ship for your payment soon.” _

_ The Turk nodded back to him. “Ant you, too, Conquistador. Watch where your ventures with these Italians lead you. Don’t allow them to lead you astray.” _

_ And with that, they parted ways. Antonio turned back to the Italian’s that Ludwig was binding at the wrists. They seemed so innocent and tired in the moonlight. The older one, however, had traces of hate in his eyes. How Antonio had mistaken him for an angel was beyond him. These two were innocent, though. Far too innocent and young to face the cruelty of this world. _

Antonio looked back to the sleeping Italian. He looked at his peaceful features and his chest as it rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern. He looked to the curl on his head that never seemed to lie flat. The boy was just a boy. He was young and innocent. His innocence, however, was slowly deteriorating with every moment of this journey. The boy seemed to cling to it desperately. Beyond the hatred he often saw in his eyes, there was fear. In fear, there was innocence. Antonio could just tell by the way the boy held himself while he slept. His arms and legs were drawn in as if he were trying to protect himself. Of course, he had a sense of maturity about him. He had taken care of his brother and given him the blanket when he had no obligation to. He was taking care of the younger boy, Antonio, despite how bitter he had been to him the few times he had seen them together on his ship. There was much more to the Italian than the Conquistador had initially realized.

But still, he was nothing more to him than a prisoner. He was a prisoner that, in a moment of pity and weakness, Antonio showed kindness to. He unlocked the cell and stepped through the doorway. He removed his red coat and draped it over the boy’s body. He then briskly turned, shut the door, and didn’t look back. He did not notice the bleary-eyed boy staring up at him as he left.

 

_ Lovino _

Lovino did not notice how long the Captain had been watching him sleep. He could have been there for hours or he could have been there for only a moment. Lovino did not know. He merely felt the warmth surround him in the cold of the night. He opened his amber eyes and watched the Spanish captain leave. He did not look back at Lovino. He never even said a word. He just walked away. Lovino pulled the Captain’s coat tighter around him. The last thing he remembered before dozing off was the scent of the fabric. It smelt mostly of sweat and vaguely of Spanish flowers.


	2. Two

_ Antonio _

The Captain walked slowly across the deck of his ship, his more unruly prisoner in tow. It was the first time he was allowing the older Italian from his cell. On the day he had arrived, he had tried escaping. Since then, he had remained under constant watch from the Captain himself. He hadn’t left the iron bars until that morning.

Antonio had originally gone down to retrieve his coat. Lovino was still asleep when he walked down the wooden stairs. He was curled on the floor on his side, covered by the red coat Antonio had lent him. The Captain watched him for a moment before opening the cell and stepping inside. He nudged the boy with his foot and woke him.

“Come now, boy,” he said softly, pulling his coat from the top of the Italian’s frame. He slipped it onto his arms, relishing in the security and familiarity it brought him. He nudged the boy’s body again. “I’m not wishing to wait on you all day. Get a move on.”

The Italian stood slowly and straightened his clothes. He didn’t speak. He merely followed Antonio’s orders. He turned towards the stairs that led up. Before he started up them, however, he spoke softly, his eyes focused ahead of him. “Do not do anything funny, boy. I’m allowing you a bit of freedom. Do not abuse it. Do not wreak havoc on my ship, or I will ensure that you do not see daylight again until your grandfather pays for you to see it again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal...” Lovino muttered.

“In the meantime, I will leave you in cuffs. I don’t trust you, and I won’t for quite a while. Give me your wrists. Now.”

The Italian held out his wrists, and Antonio locked the cuffs around them tightly. He pulled on them lightly just to make sure they were locked tightly. With that, they made their way onto the deck. And that was what led them to where they were. The boy followed behind the Captain, awaiting some sort of order. Antonio heard his soft steps behind him along with the jangle of chains. He heard his soft breaths. He could have sworn he could hear the boy’s pounding heart, too.

“You’ll be here until your grandfather decides he wants to come and retrieve you. If the two of you become a burden on me and my crew, I will write him. I will gladly tell him of your impending deaths. If he does not retrieve you within a few weeks of my letter, you will be killed.” The words he said stung, but he said them anyway. He could not show the boy any sort of weakness. He had to show a ruthlessness. He needed to inflict that fear. “Mercilessly. Your brother, however, may be spared. By the events of yesterday, I have reasons to assume that my first mate has taken a liking to the young on. I might let him keep him. Not often we get pretty, young boys like him. Not often we get pretty men at all. There are never any women at sea. Bad luck...” Antonio said, shaking his head as he said the last bit. “But your brother and the musician. Now they are a sight for sore eyes. I would have given the musician to the crew to use and abuse, but I promised my dear friend Gilbert that I’d find someone for him after a night of intense drinking. We shared so many feelings that night... I think Gilbert wanted a woman, but who knows. I’ll throw him into something scandalous before showing him to Gilbert,” Antonio mused. “But back to your brother. I’m almost positive Ludwig likes him. Maybe at least just a little. I could truss  _ him _ up and leave him in Ludwig’s room tonight. I’m sure I’ll hear them all evening, but the lad really does need something to get him mind off of more... pressing matters. Even if it’s just for a night...”

Antonio turned back to the older Italian once he reached the center of the deck. His face was red and contorted with rage and anger. He seemed not to care about his brother on a day to day basis, but when it came to his safety, he could certainly be set off. Antonio looked at the boy deviously, choosing his next words carefully. He had to set Lovino off. He had to make his rising emotions seem nonexistent. He had to hide them.

“The crew has asked me why I haven’t handed  _ you  _ over to them yet.” Antonio could never. He did not know why. “If Ludwig doesn’t want your brother, I’m sure I could succumb to their wishes. They would certainly enjoy seeing a set of brothers dance for them, don’t you think?” He felt as though he’d cut every member of his crew down if they so dared as lay eyes on Lovino dressed in anything less than modest. “Don’t worry, though, they won’t hurt you too badly. It could be painful at first, though. You are a virgin, yes?” The Italian had a look of pure rage that Antonio was almost relieved to see. He masked it with an amused expression. His emotions must remain transparent. “Ahh, just try not to worry about that. Just enjoy yourself.”

“Don’t you dare talk about Feliciano like that, bastardo!” Lovino snapped. “Don’t you dare think he’ll enjoy any of that. You’re a sick, sick bastard. Don’t you dare let that potato bastard touch Feliciano, either, or else-”

“Or else what?” Antonio asked.

“I...” he trailed off, looking to the ground.

“Exactly,” the Captain said. “You have a lot of fire in you, boy. It can either help you or kill you. I’d be wise with your words in the future. Do not challenge my authority.”

The Italian nodded slowly.

“Good. Now have you come to a decision? Will you be my cabin boy for the remainder of your time on my ship?”

The boy reluctantly nodded once more.

“Good, good. Follow me, then. I will show you to my quarters. You will need to become familiar with my ship,  _ Wandering Anna Maria.  _ You will also need to listen to myself and my first mate. I want to hear of no back sass.”

The boy nodded for one final time, and the Conquistador turned away. He walked through a door that led into a hallway. At the end of the hall was a double door that opened to reveal his quarters. Antonio stepped through the threshold of the room, the Italian in tow behind him. He stood in the center of the room while Antonio closed the doors. It took his all not to lock them both in. He wanted to corner the boy with each passing moment. He could not account for this sudden emotion. He had had other prisoners, other beautiful men aboard, but this was the first time he felt... Change. He spoke with his back to Lovino. “You will only be allowed here if I bring you here or if I summon you. You are not to come to me with inane issues. I don’t want to hear about your problems.”

The Captain felt a twinge of something when he said those words. They felt false to him. It was as if he didn’t mean those words. He knew for a fact that he didn’t mean them. But the question was why? Why did this boy have an infuriating yet alluring affect on him?

“Understood,” Lovino said softly.

Antonio turned back to him and held out his hand. “Give me your hands. Now.”

The boy complied and held out his hand to him. Antonio pulled the key from the pocket of his red coat and unlocked the shackles. He tossed them onto the desk at the center of his quarter before looking over the boy. He seemed nervous. “Don’t piss yourself, kid. I’m not going to rape you if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Lovino visibly relaxed, and Antonio snorted.

“I’m not that big of a monster. I merely say things to gauge your reactions. I would never take something like that. My crew, I cannot speak for, but I have some boundaries,” Antonio said, his back to the boy once again. His brow was furrowed. He couldn’t help but feel his words were once again false. His cravings were growing more and more intense. He only wished he had locked the doors. He looked back to Lovino. “Although, I might add, I was not lying about your brother and my first mate. I really think, after the short period of time you’ve been present on my deck, that he has grown fond of him.”

“He’s sixteen. That’s just sick, the stupid potato bastard...”

“Hush, boy. There’s not anything I can do. Ludwig does as he wishes.”

“But you’re the Captain! You own this ship!” Lovino yelled, his voice full of exasperation.

“And? I’m not going to put Ludwig on a leash. I trust  _ him _ .”

“I don’t. That potato bastard does not need to see my brother any more than he already does,” the boy argued.

“Hush. I don’t want to hear it. Your brother will be fine. I’d be more concerned about yourself. You need to watch yourself around the crew. Whilst I’m around, I am able to keep them on a tight leash, but I haven’t the slightest clue what they’d do to you if I’m not around.”

Antonio heard the Italian swallow audibly. He did not seem to like the sound of the crew. With each passing moment, Antonio found that he didn’t like it either. The Spaniard shook his head and sat down in his chair behind his desk. He found he was too restless if he was standing. By sitting, he could control how close he was to the boy. He could gravitate closer to him.

“What are your skills, boy?”

Lovino furrowed his brow for a moment and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do you need to know, bastardo?”

“I am not a patient man. Answer my questions  _ without _ sass.”

Lovino snorted but reluctantly answered. “Not much, really. I’m not as good of an artist as Feliciano. I can’t work with wood. I can lift, but I prefer no to. And I know the riggings of a ship decently,” he said slowly. He then hesitantly added, “I’m a good pickpocket, too.”

“A pickpocket?” Antonio asked, his brow raised.

“Mhmm.”

“There’s got to be a half-decent story to this, now.”

“It’s none of your business, bastardo.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“One.”

“I’m not a child. You don’t need to count.”

“Two.”

“What are you going to do when you get to three? Spank me?” The Italian’s voice was laced with sarcasm, but he seemed serious at the same time. His idea wasn’t half bad, either.

“Thr--”

“Okay! Fine... I’ll tell you the damned story,” Lovino conceded.

Antonio nodded, but on the inside, he was a little put out. Lovino’s idea of spanking seemed so remedial, yet it drew him in. He would have loved to try it. “Tell.”

“When I was six, I ran away to the south of Italy. Hitchhiked and back packed all the way to the tip of the country. The kids down there didn’t know my name, so they called me Romano because that was the last town I had visited. A couple of thieves took me in, taught me to pick pockets. I was small enough to get the objects. No one noticed me, and because I was so small, people pitied me, especially the women-”

“So you were a ladies man at the age of six. Bravo,” Antonio interjected.

“You can say that.”

Lovino’s words stung a little, but Antonio brushed it aside.

“Anyways, I didn’t miss home at all. I didn’t miss Grandpa doting on Feliciano. I didn’t miss doing chores - not that I actually did them anyways. I grew up there, on the streets. I lived there until I was fourteen. Then one day, Grandpa found me on one of his trips south. I was sitting at the docks, fishing, and he saw me. He told me that he recognized my curl. Told me I looked just like.my little brother. I looked like  _ him _ . He hugged me, but I hardly remembered him,” Lovino said, shrugging his shoulders. He seemed conflicted. His brow was knitted inwards. “Supposedly he had been searching for me for the previous eight years, but I didn’t care. I enjoyed my time in the south. The thief that raised me taught me how to set the sails on a ship. He taught me the riggings. I met so many people. I had met pretty girls...” The words stung Antonio again, much to his dismay. “I loved it there. I was happy. I guess I got bitter when Grandpa made me come back. Feliciano was worse than he was when I left. He was such a child. He had learned nothing, and I wasn’t there to teach him.”

“You grew up on the streets, yet you came from a privileged family. You  _ ran away. _ Most would call you insane, boy,” Antonio mused. “Well, you have some skills, so let’s put you to use.”

The boy nodded. Antonio stood from behind his desk and walked over to the doors. He pushed away his last craving to take Lovino as his own and led him from his quarters onto the deck. He led him to Ludwig, who was instructing the younger Italian on how to go about climbing the rigging.

“Ludwig,” Antonio said.

“Ja?” the German asked.

“We still have that paint from when I made them touch of my beloved ship, yes?”

“Of course. It’s down below.”

“Well, I was thinking...” Antonio trailed.

“That’s never a good idea, Captain...” Ludwig muttered.

“Hush,” he snapped. “I was thinking... Now that we have two Italian painters on our hands, why don’t we fix up my beloved  _ Anna Maria _ on the hull of the ship?”

The younger of the two immediately squealed in delight of the sound of a new project. The other help an expression that was purely unamused.

“How the hell do you expect us to paint that? We’re over the ocean. We’d fall,” Lovino stated, his voice bitter once again.

“Very carefully,” the Captain replied.

“You’re crazy, tomato bastard.”

“You and my crew know that well enough. If you don’t wish to, then I’ll find you another project. You can always scrub and varnish the deck. Help the cook in the galley. Menial work.”

Lovino snorted. “No. You’d just endanger my brother’s life that way. I won’t have you helping this prick, Feliciano. I won’t have you endangering yourself. I don’t want to hear any sort of argument, either. Do you understand me?”

The younger boy nodded glumly. It was obvious that his brother was harsh on him, but it also seemed that the brother cared. That was something.

“Don’t worry, Lovino. Ludwig will teach me about the ship. Maybe he can teach me German, too!” Feliciano said, his voice happy as always.

“No, you will not learn German. It is an ugly language. Italian is graceful and beautiful. German is rough. Besides, I don’t want you near that damned potato bastard more than necessary.”

“But  _ Lovino! _ ” Feliciano whined.

“No,  _ but Lovino _ ’s,” the older brother said, mocking the younger. “Stay away from him, do you understand me?”

The boy nodded once more. At this point, the captain felt the need to interject after watching the argument from the sidelines.

“This is my ship, boy. Don’t go ordering people around. I will have you back in your cell before you can bat a lash,” Antonio snapped, towering over Lovino. “Do you understand me?”

The Italian scowled and reluctantly nodded.

“Get the paint from down below. You can get to work immediately. I advise you to remain steady. If you fall, we will not go get you.”

The boy nodded once more before disappearing down below deck. “Ludwig, I need to talk to you in my quarters, right away.”

~

The Captain sat in the cushioned chair behind his desk, his red coat draped over the back of his seat. He looked upon his first mate, Ludwig, with a calculating gaze.

“How close are you getting to the younger boy?” he asked after a moment.

“What do you mean?” Ludwig asked hesitantly.

“They’ve only been on my ship for a few days now, but you’re seeming to grow close to him. Should I be worried about this, Ludwig?”

“No, Sir,” he said in a matter of fact tone. “They boy is just afraid. I’m making attempts to keep him calm, to befriend him. If he has allies on this ship, then he’d be less likely to rebel. I’m keeping him comfortable as to avoid incidents, Sir.”

Antonio wasn’t convinced, but he nodded anyways. “Good, good. Have there been any incidents involving either of the boys?”

“No, Sir.”

“Keep it that way, Ludwig.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Dismissed.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Ludwig left the room and Antonio was left alone in his thoughts. The Turk had yet to send him word of what went on Italy. He knew for damned sure that he had escaped the country. He knew for damned sure that he was close. He had seen his ship the day previous, but the man had never come to speak to him. Not yet at least. He had no idea where he could be, that is until he heard the door of his cabin lock with a click. Antonio’s green gaze shifted upwards towards the door where he saw the Turk standing in the dim lighting. He had no expression on his features.

“You have word from Italy, I presume,” the Captain said, cooly.

The Turk nodded. “I delivered your letter to Augustus Vargas after they sent the ship that attacked you yesterday. They realized you were hovering on the coast for a reason. They hadn’t realized you were taking the boys until after they were gone. They wouldn’t have sent the Navy otherwise.”

The Captain nodded. “And the Grandfather’s reaction?”

“Augustus Vargas is furious. He was once a General for the Italian Navy, and he was fully prepared to launch another attack, but because of the contents of your letter, he fears for his grandson’s life. He fears that you will kill them after yesterday’s attack. I assured him I’d speak to you, Spaniard. They are still alive, I presume?”

“Of course,” he replied.

“He hesitates now, in wait of the funds. I’m sure he is willing to pay for their safe return.”

“Good... Good...” Antonio said slowly. “They will be returned when Augustus can pay, I assure you.”

“I must warn you, Spaniard. Augustus Vargas knows of my skills. He knows I’m more than just a man with the right information. I fear he is looking to get the money to hire my services once his grandsons are returned.”

“To kill me.” The Captain’s voice was resolute.

“Precisely,” he said. “I hold allegiance to no one, Spaniard. In this world, only one thing holds any assurance and value, and that is gold.”

“I understand. Your payment for your last venture is here. I assume your ship is still close by.”

“Yes.”

“Take two of my crew members to carry it. Your chest is in the corner,” Antonio said, gesturing to a large, antique chest.

The Turk nodded curtly and left the cabin. Antonio stood and followed after him, his strides slow and leisurely. He walked back out into the morning sunlight after the Turk. His crew kept working, but their curious gazes occasionally shifted towards them. And then he noticed there were those that were not working. They weren’t his crew. They were entirely unfamiliar to him. He looked around and noticed the Turks ship not too far away. He should have guessed. They boarded his ship. He scowled and point at two of the burlier men of his crew.

“You two,” he said, beckoning for them to come closer. “Help the Turk with his load. Quickly.”

The two followed the Turk back to the Captain’s cabin and disappeared from sight. The Conquistador then looked at the members of the Turk’s crew. “The rest of you best get your asses from my ship.” His voice was calm but stern.

His ship was cleared quickly, and his own crew was left doing their work. The Captain watched, standing in the center of it all, tall and proud. He was in control of this ship. His crew didn’t hesitate on following his order. The Turk’s own crew followed his commands. He held power. He had taken it as his own, he had conquered. He smiled vaguely as the Turk resurfaced with his bounty. He took it back to his ship and his two crew members returned. Then they left, their ship departing. He watched them go, a callous look on his face. The Spaniard had to keep his eyes on the Turk. If Augustus Vargas was looking to pay for his destruction, then the Captain had slowly distanced himself from the man until he was sure he would not be betrayed. The Turk held allegiance to no one. He was apart from everyone. He wasn’t even sure if the man loved.

Just as Antonio was about to retreat to hiding, he heard a loud yell from above. He turned his head to gaze at the skies. His eyes were wide with surprise and confusion. Then he saw him. The younger Vargas, dangling from above, clinging to the riggings for dear life. Antonio stilled and did not move. His crew started up the rigging to help him, but Antonio held up his ringed hand.

“No!” he yelled. “Nobody move. Nobody touches him. Nobody helps him. He needs to learn how to get down himself!”

They stopped and stood still at the command of their Captain. All except Lovino. He came running, jars of paint in his hands. He had brushes under his arms. He was just now returning with the paint. He could have sworn he told the boy to get that started at least half an hour before. He turned to the boy slowly, his features lined with annoyance.

“I told you to go paint, boy. Do not make me repeat myself,” the Captain said.

“You’re just going to let him dangle there?” Lovino asked, his voice low.

“Yes, And you will not help him, either.”

“Just watch me.”

Lovino set down the jars and stalked across the deck. The Captain watched as he began to climb the riggings with ease. He showed little fear. Most boys his age who didn’t have sea legs would have felt terrified. He was sure Feliciano felt that way. He had to be terrified. Lovino, however, grew up on the streets. He was at ease with climbing. He showed no fear. Antonio watched him with interest as he easily climbed the riggings and took hold of his dangling brother. He pulled him to safety with a nonchalant grace that pulled Antonio in. He always found himself getting more and more intrigued by the boy. He had natural sea legs just as the Captain did. He hadn’t seen someone with such skill in a long while. He was impressed and interested. This feeling would only save the boy from punishment. He had disobeyed a direct order, and the Conquistador would not stand for such insubordination. When the two Italians reached the deck, the Captain approached with a look of callous disinterest and rage.

“You,” he said, pointing to the younger one. “Brig. Now. Ludwig, take him.” The German nodded and led Feliciano down below. Antonio then turned to the older sibling. “You dare disobey my orders, boy? Are you trying to undermine my authority?”

“You were just going to let him hang on there! He would have fallen!” Lovino yelled.

“He would have learned how to climb back up on his own. You deprived him of the chance,” Antonio shot.

“I’d rather save him that risk having him fall!”

“You don’t realize, boy, that you can’t save everyone in this world. You’ve only bought him a little while longer, but the next time he has to go up the rigging, he may not be so lucky. Hell, I have half the mind to send him back up there right now.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“And what can  _ you _ do to stop me? You have no sword. You have no dagger. You’re a pathetic boy who wants to look stronger by standing up to the Captain. But guess what? You’re my prisoner. And until someone comes to retrieve your sorry ass, I’m sure you’ll remain that way. I only pray that it happens soon, but who would want someone like you. Scared. Useless. Weak. Your grandfather must think you to be a disgrace. You ran away from home because you were too afraid to look at his expressions of disappointment,” the Captain said. His voice was calm and collected. He knew just where to hit to make the boy lose his desire to argue. He knew how to make him break, but the pain Antonio felt from his own words was familiar. He kept on talking. “You always knew your brother was better than you. You’re a weak, pathetic disgrace for a man and to your family. I wouldn’t be surprised if he leaves you here to die and take your brother. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he doesn’t love you.”

“You don’t mean that. You’re just a cold hearted man who finds joy in tearing down the defenseless,” the boy replied, his voice soft. His head hung so that his bangs covered his eyes. “Grandpa would never do that to me.”

“Yes, boy, he would.” With a sense of finality, Antonio turned on his heel to go back to his cabin. “Everyone, back to work!”

Antonio walked a few paces and then he hear more yells.

“ _ Bad form! Captain! _ ”

“ _ Behind you! The brat is coming! _ ”

He heard the scurrying of feet and the drawing of swords. Just as he was about to draw his own, he felt a sickening crack at the back of his skull. He felt the cool, thick liquid that was pain run down the collar of his shirt and down his skin. He turned back briefly and saw through the black spots in his vision a very surprised Italian. His face was pale and his eyes were wide. His hands were covered in the red paint that covered Antonio now. The boy had struck him. With a swiftness that the boy did not seem to expect, the Captain backhanded him. He heard him cry out, but he did not care. He simply turned away and managed to remain steady although the world was spinning in splotchy darkness. He didn’t know exactly what would happen or how long he had until he lost consciousness. All the spinning... All of the blackness... He knew he would. He didn’t stand a chance. He had to get back to his cabin. He could not appear weak in front of his crew.

He gave one final order before stepping into the hall that would lead him to his cabin. “Do with him as you will, but God so help you if he dies...”

The Captain lurched forward and the door slammed behind him. His movements were sluggish. He stumbled down the hall, leaning against the walls to keep himself upright. His cabin was so close, within inches of his fingertips. He opened the double doors and staggered inside. He slammed them closed behind him. As he reached the center of the room, the darkness took over.

 

_ Lovino _

He didn’t know what had come over him. One moment he was accepting the defeat he felt  after the Captain’s harsh words and then he was lifting the jar of paint. He remembered the sickening noise of it cracking open against the Captain’s skull. When the red paint came into view, he felt an illness wash over him. He had immediately paled over and his eyes widened. He caught the Captain’s expressionless gaze before he felt the back of his ringed hand connect with his cheek. He supposed he deserved that. He had attacked the man. He hadn’t meant to, but he was just so angry.

The Captain walked away and just before he disappeared from sight, he gave one final order to his devote crew, an order that sent waves of fear and dread through him.

“Do with him as you will, but God so him you if he dies...” The Captain spoke. And then he disappeared from sight.

Lovino was grabbed immediately following the Captain’s disappearance. He didn’t have a moment to assess what was going on. They merely dragged him across the deck. He didn’t fight them. He allowed them to pull him to and fro. He was too stunned and surprised to do anything else. Somewhere in the chaos, his shirt disappeared. The crew shouted and jeered at him. The called him disturbing names, but he said nothing. He reacted no way when they wound a rope around his left wrist. They pushed him to his knees in front of the mast, his chest flush with the wood. His other wrist was tied to a length of rope and his body was pulled until he hugged the mast. He had no idea what they were doing. He was too numb to think the situation through. He knelt before the mast, his forehead pressed against the wood. Maybe they’d leave him there to burn under the blazing sun. But that was wishful thinking. These men were pirates. They wouldn’t be so kind as to allow that. He knew as much. The Captain said to have their way with him. He was sure they would do just that. If it meant torturing him... Lovino did not want to think of that. He waited as the moments passed by. Something was coming, but he couldn’t figure out-.

He heard the noise of plaited leather striking skin before he actually felt it. When he did, however, Lovino cried out. His scream was only met with laughter.

“Count,” a voice ordered.

“One,” Lovino said through gritted teeth.

The strikes kept coming. Two. Three. Four. He pulled at the ropes that kept him in place. Five. Six. Seven. His back arched with pain with every blow, but the crew was relentless. Eight. Nine. Ten. Sweat poured down his brow and blood seeped down his back, but he did not plead for them to stop. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. They began passing the whip between the crew members. Everyone had to get in on the fun. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Lovino was growing numb, but he managed to stay upright. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. His wrists were bleeding from pulling so roughly on the ropes. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. His consciousness was wavering, but he held on; he could not give them any sort of satisfaction. Twenty-four. Twenty-five. Twenty-six. He blinked back the swimming vision and tears that ailed him. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. His arms grew limp. He stopped pulling. He was so weak and delirious. Thirty. The darkness surrounded him, and Lovino greeted death as if it were an old friend.


	3. Three

_ Antonio _

The Captain woke in his bed. He entire body and frame seemed heavy like lead. His head throbbed in the candlelight of his dim cabin. The sun was setting, leaving the room bathed in an orange glow. Antonio closed his eyes and ran his hands through his curly brown hair. It was silky and smooth just as it had been when he was a child. There was no trace of paint or blood. There was a large bump where he had been struck, but nothing more. There were no life-threatening injuries covering his body. They had all been patched and sewn shut. He owed a lot to his first made, Ludwig, and in one of the days to followed, he felt as though he’d have to repay that debt. The man had patched and cleaned his wounds more times than he could count.

The Captain slid from his bed and stood on wobbly, bare feet. As he stretched out his bare arms, his green eyes opened. His torso was bare. He assumed Ludwig must have removed his soiled shirt. He thought nothing more of it and merely donned a fresh one from his wardrobe. His red coat was in his wardrobe as well; he was sure he had left that on the back of his chair earlier that day. It had surely been moved since then. Ludwig must have gone around and cleaned up after him. He’d also have to repay him for that one day. That man did more than was asked of him and not a single complaint had ever been uttered from his lips. Antonio touched the red fabric of the coat with a sense of longing, but he did not slide it onto his arms. It was late and the sun was setting. He did not need to show off the coat. No battle raged. Here and now, he was just a simple captain. He left it where it hung and retreated from his cabin to the dimming sunlight.

Out onto the deck he stalked, his feet still bare. It had been a long while since he had walked across his beloved ship without boots. It felt soft and strong beneath his calloused feet. The setting sun cast long shadows across the worn varnish on the equally worn wood. They spread everywhere, each one of his crew pinpointed to his own. He scanned them all. They lurked about in the remnants of the day as they usually did. There were two faces, however, that he could not seem to find. Ludwig and the older of the Vargas boys were not present in the sea that was his crew. They were gone from his sight. The older Vargas could have retreated back to his cell after what the crew had surely put him through. Ludwig was free to roam as he pleased. He was not surprised that he was missing as the light waned. The Captain walked further down the deck and past the mast, his thoughts wandering. He was unaware of what he had just passed at the mast. His mind was focussed on the glory of the  _ Wandering Anna Maria _ . He was focussed on her beauty.

And then he heard a whimper.

His head whipped round, and then he saw them. Ludwig and the boy, Lovino, were at the base of the mast, together. The boy seemed to be bound to the wooden structure. Only his arms were visible as Ludwig knelt in front of him, hiding most of his boy from view. Had his crew left the kid out in the blazing sun throughout the entire day? It seemed unlike them. They preferred harsher and more painful methods of punishment. For a moment, he was almost disappointed in them. That disappointment, oddly enough, quickly turned to rage once he saw the bloody towel and rum in Ludwig’s hands. As if sensing him, the German turned and stared at him with sad, blue eyes. The Spaniard did not understand. Had the crew injured the boy? Was he dying? Was he already dead? He could not make heads or tails in the chaos that had become his mind. Fury fueled through his veins as he slowly walked over to them. He stopped beside Ludwig, looming over them both. His emerald eyes scanned over the damage that had been done to the boy. His fists clenched at his sides until his knuckles were white.

Lovino’s back was littered with bloody, red lacerations and purple and black bruises. His shirt had disappeared, exposing his arms and torso. His wrists bloodied and raw from the ropes that were wound around them. Any of his skin that was not cut was burned a bright red from the scorching sun. The boy was a mess of pain and despair, he could hear it from the ragged breaths and whimpers that escaped his lips. He was alive, but he was in agony.

Antonio had to control the blind fury that coursed through him. He had  _ allowed _ this. He could not yell at his crew for harming the boy. This was his fault. He had given them permission to do as they wished to the boy. Those words were foolish. He should have been more careful with his words... He had acted too rashly. He had acted out of anger, not sense. The pain from the thought could not be explained in words. He closed his eyes for a moment and then held out his hand to his first mate.

“Ludwig, your knife,” he said in a neutral tone.

The German handed him the blade, and Antonio immediately set to work at cutting away the ropes that held the boy in place. As soon as they were loose, he slumped to the ground as if they were the only thing holding him up. They probably were. He was in such a pitiful state. He couldn’t even support himself. The Captain felt his resolve weakening. He hadn’t meant to leave the kid in such a state. He hadn’t meant to hurt him this badly. He bent down and took hold his arms. He slung Lovino over his back at started across the deck back towards his cabin.

“Ludwig, grab some more rum and bandages,” he said, his voice soft. There was no hint of his former fury behind his words. It was as if that fury had never existed in his heart. “If his wounds fester and become infected, he’ll surely die. I promise you that.”

The German gave a solemn nod of his head and disappeared below deck. Antonio made his way to his cabin with surprising speed. Once inside, he went to his desk. With a single sweep of his arms, he cleared the papers that littered it. He set the boy down on his chest and lay his arms at his sides. Soft whimpers escaped his dried, cracked lips. The Captain whispered Spanish lullabies in some vain attempt to calm the boy. They were tactics his mother used on him when he was younger. He hoped they’d work now. His voice shook with every word, but he did not know what else to do. He had not the supplies to care for the boy, not until his first mate return. He watched the boy, his heart beating rapidly. What if he should die? How would Antonio come to terms with that? This boy was an innocent. The Captain could not kill those who did not deserve it... It was against his principles. Ludwig came to his rescue moments later with two bottles of rum and an armful of fabrics from the cargo hold, a small yellow bird residing on his shoulder. Antonio thought nothing of it and delved into his questions.

“Do you know what happened?” the Captain asked, uncorking one of the bottles. “Hold him. I don’t want him to fall...”

Ludwig took hold of the boy's arms. “I came up looking for you after I put Feliciano in the brig. I wanted to speak to you. I heard them laughing and jeering, but I ignored it. I thought it was their usual banter. I went straight to your cabin. I found you lying on the floor, bleeding and covered in paint. I cleaned you up best I could and tended to your wounds before putting you to bed. I went outside looking for answers. I only took a few hours at most, but by then so much damage had been done. He was already unconscious. I sent them away and took care of what I could. I didn’t ask them what happened. I don’t know why they did it, but I could only assume it had to do with the state you were in. What happened when I was below?”

Antonio ignored the question for a bit and poured some rum onto the boy’s back. His body writhed beneath Ludwig’s strong grip, but the German did not budge. Lovino cried out in pain, and the shouts caused an ache in Antonio’s chest. He closed his eyes and took some of the fabric Ludwig brought. He dabbed up any remaining blood and alcohol from the boys back before letting his eyes meet Ludwig’s.

“He attacked me when I had my back to him. In my fit of anger, I told the crew to do as they wished with him... I was stupid to believe they wouldn’t beat him nearly to death, despite my warnings,” Antonio muttered. He shook his head and frowned bitterly. “They’re pirates. Hell, they’re  _ my _ crew. I should have expected this. This is my fault. I am to blame for his pain and his anguish, and I accept that responsibility...” the Spaniard whispered.

“You’re not as cruel as you think, you know,” Ludwig said, his deep voice calm and collected. He had always been Antonio’s voice of reason since the first day they had met. It is why he had asked him to be his first mate...

“Speak nothing of it. Attend to the boy’s wounds...”

Antonio poured alcohol onto the lacerations that covered the Italians wrists, ignoring the boy’s whimpers and cries. Each made the Captain cringe in despair and disappointment, but he had to ignore them to remain concentrated. He wiped away all of the dried blood with the fabric, his gaze empty. After the boy was free of blood on his skin, he looked back to Ludwig.

“Leave him here and I’ll bandage him later,” he said, avoiding the German’s eyes. “Deal with the crew. Set a strict night watch. Make sure the deck is spotless by morning. I’ll stay here with him.”

“Yes, Captain,” the taller blond said with a nod. He turned to leave but, Antonio stopped him.

“Thank you, Ludwig... Really, for everything.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Captain.”

With a curt nod, the German left the Spaniard’s quarters. Antonio looked at Lovino whose features were pale. His lips were cracked and dried and bloody. A sheen of sweat covered his brow. It seemed as if the boy had never suffered this much in his lifetime. The Conquistador noted once more how this journey was taking its toll on the boy. His innocence was falling apart at Antonio’s fingertips. He was robbing the boy of it, much like his own had been robbed of him. He pursed his lips and closed his eyes. He couldn’t let the child die. Hell, he at least had to return him to his grandfather broken. He knew that Lovino wouldn’t quite be the same from this endeavor. He’d be scarred both physically and mentally, but this wasn’t his job to deal with. Sure, it infuriated him to see the boy like this, but he couldn’t do much of anything. He had no place, no right to. After all, this was his fault. Someone else had to mend Lovino.

Antonio watched the boy with an odd expression. Much to his surprise, he found a single curl in his hair on the boy’s head that didn’t seem to want to lie flat. There were no other curls in his sweat soaked hair. Just that one, and against all odds, it stood tall. The Captain’s fingers began to gravitate towards it, but he was caught by the sweaty hand of the boy lying on his desk.

“Don’t touch it,” he warned, his amber eyes cracked opened.

“Why?” Antonio asked.

“Because, bastard, I said. Don’t touch it.”

“Bastard?” he asked, raising a brow

“Yes. Now don’t touch it. Leave me in peace, and do not touch it...” he said. “And keep that Potato Bastard away from Feliciano’s. That kid can’t contain himself the second that damn thing is tugged in the slightest...”

The Captain nodded with a confused expression. This had to be the mad ramblings of a half-conscious man. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. He was almost sure the boy had fallen back to sleep when he heard him speak two soft words.

“I’m sorry.”

Antonio looked down at the boy with yet another confused expression. “Excuse me? What could  _ you _ have to be sorry for?”

“I attacked you...”

“And my crew flogged you senseless.”

“Bastard, just accept the apology and don’t make me say it again,” he mumbled. Another long silence followed.

Antonio waited a while longer before picking up another bottle of rum. “Bite down on your knuckles. I need to clean out your wounds once more. I can’t have you acquiring infections from that whip. I can’t remember the last time it was cleaned.”

“Why are you doing this?” Lovino asked.

“I just told you. I can’t have you dying from infection.”

“No... I mean... You, yourself. You’re a pirate captain. You could have just sent someone else to.”

“And let you die on their hands? No. My crew knows nothing about medicine.”

“And you do? You’re no doctor.”

“No... I’m not...”

“Can’t you just take me to land? Find someone who knows what they’re doing?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why?”   
“I can’t have you escaping or telling anyone who you are and what has happened to you. I’m not clueless, boy. I assure you, boy, that until your grandfather pays your ransom, you will remain under my control. I can’t let two innocent boys roam the countrysides and the seven seas alone, now can I? That would be cruel and reckless of me.”

“You’re truly noble and chivalric. Sure. Inflicting pain and injury are crueler than letting us roam the Italian countryside. Trust me.”

“I did not mean for you to be injured...” The Captain’s voice was soft.

“Then why tell your crew to do as they wished with me?”

“Because I was angry and seeing stars! If you hadn’t attacked me, maybe we wouldn’t have had this problem.”

“If you hadn’t tried to kill my brother then made me feel like nothing-”

“You’re not nothing.”

“Not to you. To you, I’m a sum of gold. I’m money. The more damage that’s brought to me, the less you can charge to return me to my grandfather. You’re a Spaniard. You are a man of your word. You promised we’d be returned unharmed. And forty plus scars on the skin of my back is far from unharmed, bastard, and Grandpa will know that.”

“Don’t make a habit of pissing me off, then... And then I won’t have to heal your wounds. You seemed to have survived. I’m sure you could do it again. I will add scars to your back. Do not test me.” For some reason, he felt as though he could never do such a thing to the boy. He was already enraged by the beating his crew had given the boy. He doubted he could ever do it again.

Antonio poured more rum on his skin and dabbed at the boy’s back with the cloth in his hands. He mopped up any blood and liquid. “Go to sleep, boy. I’m sure you are tired.”

Lovino nodded his head. He slipped off the Captain’s desk and stood slowly on shaky legs. He stumbled and nearly fell, but Antonio came to his aid and offered his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around the boy’s waist, careful not to touch the cuts and bruises. The boy flinched, but Antonio did not care. He merely ignored him.

“You need to stay here. You don’t have the strength to move,” the Captain said, helping the boy into his own bed. He laid him down on his stomach and pulled a blanket over his legs after removing his boots. “I’ll be back sometime after nightfall to check on you...”

Antonio walked to the door and swung it open, pausing only when Lovino spoke.

“Thanks...” he said.

The Captain did not look at Lovino. He kept his vivid green eyes focused on the floor. “Don’t get used to my kindness, boy. You will seldom see it after this point.”

Antonio knew those words were just lies. He was lying to both himself and Lovino. Each time the boy came near him, he was drawn in closer. He was so strange and alluring. It wasn’t a sexual desire for the boy either. He did have to admit that he was handsome. He was more of a young man than a boy. Eighteen years old and ten years the Spaniard’s junior, but that was another thing that drew him in. It was strangely wrong for him to be drawn to the boy, but it felt incredibly right. He was someone who had face a lot in his past, just as Antonio had. He grew up on the streets, from what he had gathered. He knew how to handle himself. And that fire in his eyes... It told so much. It told his naivety. He was so naive, but he seemed to have a bit of experience, something he was hiding from the rest of the world. He could see something hiding behind his rough exterior. He could see it in the liquid amber and green pools that were Lovino’s eyes. Antonio wanted to know more of his secrets. He craved to see what he hid. But he could do no such thing. The boy was hurt and aching. It was all Antonio’s fault that he was left in this state. He had thrown him to the dogs that were his crew. They maimed him and left him to suffer. Anger fueled in him for the pain they cause him, but he could not release it. He had condoned it. He had allowed them to proceed. He had caused his suffering, and for some reason, Antonio had grown to care. He cared about the boy’s well-being. The anger that flared in him when he had seen the damage was proof. He had never cared when it was another crew member. He always thought they deserved it for the ridiculous stunts they pulled. But when it came to Lovino... In some way, he had allowed his resolve to slip. He had allowed something to change in him... It seemed semi-permanent, his sudden need to care for the boy... He felt feelings beginning to bud. His inner reason told him he could not. That he could not let himself care about the boy. He was a pirate. He was not allowed to love, to care, to have feelings for another. It was too dangerous. He could only take what he wanted. He conquered it. He was a conquistador. That was his way... He wouldn’t allow himself to be immersed in such petty thoughts. No. These feelings he had coursing through him... They had to be full of pity for the state the boy was in. Nothing more.

As the Captain walked, immersed in his thoughts, the shadows ahead of him cast by the dim lamps moved. Two figures came towards Antonio and he looked on them with a fearless expression. He didn’t draw his sword. He didn’t even place a hand on the hilt. He did not look away or run. These two did not scare him. He recognized the careless swagger of one and the proud stride of the other.

“Francis. Gilbert. How long have you two been stowed away on my ship?” Antonio asked.

“Only an hour or so now, mon copain,” the Frenchman said.

“I swear. I need to berate my watchmen twice over...” First, they let the Turk amble onto his ship and then the other two members of the Bad Touch Trio.

“I sent Gilbird ahead of us. He was supposed to notify you,” Gilbert said nonchalantly. He had a bottle of what seemed to be beer in his hand, probably from his own ship, wherever it was.

Antonio had seen the little yellow bird earlier that day. He had been perched on Ludwig’s shoulder, but he didn’t think twice of him. “That bird is just as reliable as a senile old woman, and you know it.”

“Or you’re just as inobservant as a blind man,” Gilbert retorted.

“Shut up.” The two stared each other down for a few moments before grins broke onto their features. They embraced briefly and stepped back from each other.

“Why have you come to visit me?” Antonio asked, leading his friends towards the deck rather than his own cabin, his bare feet padding lightly.

“Friendly visit. Why are we going this way? Your quarters are in the opposite direction,” Francis replied.

“I have someone sleeping in there...” Antonio said softly, hesitantly.

“Mon copain! Do you have a lady friend on board?”

“No. Don’t you know it’s bad luck to have a woman on board?” Antonio asked.

“Then who is in your cabin?” Gilbert asked. “You didn’t lock Ludwig inside of it, did you?”

“I’m not nearly strong enough to overpower your brother.”

“You didn’t have sex with-”

“God no! Gilbert, he is my first mate and the kid brother of my best friend. I will not sleep with him. He is also, might I add, a man.”

Gilbert only replied with a snort.

“Then who is sleeping in your cabin, Tonio?” Francis asked.

“A prisoner I’m holding for ransom. My crew decided to whip the shit out of the kid this afternoon.”

“And you’re taking care of the brat?” Gilbert’s tone was incredulous. He seemed entirely shocked that his hardened friend was taking care of a  _ prisoner _ . “I thought you got over that years ago.”

“Mon copain! You are in  _ love _ ! You love him! That is the only explanation for it!” Francis exclaimed.

“No, he’s not in  _ love _ . You think everything is fucking love. There is no such thing. The bitch has gone soft,” Gilbert retorted.

“I have not. I felt the need to take care of his wounds because the boy  _ is _ worth a profit to me. I need to return him whole in order to receive the money I want.”

“Fine, you’re not going soft, but don’t get overwhelmed with all of the prisoners you have here. Francis decided to add a fourth to your load.”

“A fourth, Francis? Really?” Antonio asked, groaning inwardly. “The Austrian musician I hardly see, and he still manages to irritate me.”

“You picked up an Austrian Princess? Please tell me she’s at least pretty? You didn’t nab some ugly broad, did you?” Gilbert asked. He seemed mildly interested.

“Stole  _ him _ off an Italian ship I sank. Figured I’d sell  _ him _ eventually. Haven’t decided.”

Gilbert nodded and said no more. The Captain then asked reluctantly, “So, who is this fourth prisoner you have brought me?”

“He’s a French traveler and informant that was making an attempt to flee the country. I had leads that he was coming to Italy to stock up and sell some information to an avid buyer. He’s a crafty man. He knows just about any language except Japanese, I believe. Handsome devil, too. Can woo any woman he pleases with the few words he says. He’s a legend, I promise you, mon copain.”

“So, the King sent you and your crew to pick up someone who defied him and stole his secrets. You had a classic case of love at first sight upon seeing him, and now you just absolutely have to win his favor and sleep with him before you are satisfied. But before you can have him, you need to tell the King he is dead. Bring him the body of a criminal. Your monarch is gullible, and you know he will believe it. The King also has no idea what he looks like, so you can easily pass him off. And then, once the King has been satisfied, you are going to retrieve your prize, bang him, and go. You’ll never see him again after that,” Antonio said with a matter of fact tone.

“You wound me, mon copain. You are right about everything until the very end. I will not leave my beloved Mathieu. I will love him forever!” Francis exclaimed.

“Bull shit,” Gilbert scoffed. “Do you remember when he said that about the British man with the bushy eyebrows?”

“He was an absolute ass. And his cooking was God awful. He had horrible taste in wine, too. How could I ever have loved  _ him _ ? Mathieu is different, though,” Francis argued. “He is  _ French. _ He is amazing. I am in love!”

“I’m sure you are,” Antonio said with a smile. “You two are welcome to stay the night. There is space below... Or I suppose you could bunk in my cabin.”

“Such a great idea! We can spend all night drinking and telling stories!” Francis exclaimed.

“Just  _ don’t _ disturb the boy. I’d rather not have a pissed off, delirious Italian yelling at me while my skull is throbbing. That would lead to more problems that I am not in the mood to deal with,” Antonio said bitterly.

“Why are you so concerned about the kid? Tell the person you’re holding ransom from you’re going to kill him if he doesn’t pay you soon and then wait for the money.”

“You do realize he’s been present here for just a few days. I’m going to wait for word. Now come. I want to see this prisoner.”

The Captain led his friends down below towards the brig. He was not surprised to find his first mate down below, sitting in front of the cell that held Feliciano. He was surprised, however, to see that their hands were clasped through the bars.

“What the hell, Ludwig! Are you gay? That’s just wrong! What the fuck!” Gilbert yelled.

The blond German stumbled back and looked at his brother to the Captain and back again. Antonio shook his head with an exasperated sigh. He pulled the keys from the hook on the wall and tossed them to his first mate. The blond caught them with a stunned expression.

“Take him upstairs and stay far from Gilbert, Ludwig. I will handle this. Go.”

The German nodded, released Feliciano, and left quickly. Gilbert turned to Antonio with a furious expression.

“You let my brother go queer?” he asked.

“I’m not your brother’s keeper. I don’t watch his every move.”

“You had to know about this shit!”

“I had some suspicions, but I wasn’t going to accuse him of that and risk being wrong.”

Gilbert walked off to a corner to grumble and sulk, and Antonio looked to the blond prisoner that was leaning against the wall in a separate cell from the Austrian musician and where Feliciano had formerly been.

“This is Matthew I’m assuming,” Antonio stated, looking over the man. He was thin and pale with light blond hair. A pair of wire-framed glasses hung off the tip of his nose. From the look of him, he seemed strong. He had a decent muscular build. There seemed to be nothing special about him. “This is the informant the King wanted you to hunt down. He doesn’t seem like much of anything to me.”

“Do not speak of me as if I am not here,” the blonde said.

“Do not back sass me. You’re on  _ my  _ ship.”

“Yes, the  _ Wandering Anna Maria _ . And you’re the Captain, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo.”

“Antonio froze. The man knew his name. His  _ full _ name.  _ No one _ knew his full name. “I’m going to kill him, Francis. I’m really going to kill him.”

“Non! You will do no such thing, Tonio! He’s smart and he knows a lot. It will only be a few weeks, I promise you.”

“If I hear anyone speak my name because of him, I will hurt him, Francis.”

The Frenchman nodded reluctantly.

“Don’t you dare make such comments about me, you barbarian. You haven’t the slightest clue who you are dealing with, do you? I am a  _ musician _ , you crazy illiterate!” a pompous voice yelled.

Antonio turned to the corner where it seemed Gilbert was harassing the Austrian.

“You’re a princess. I could snap you like a twig,” Gilbert goaded.

“You could do no such thing. The skeletal system of a human being is far too strong for someone to ‘snap like a twig’.”

“Tonio!” Francis interrupted. “Where are we staying, my friend?”

“There're my quarters, with the rest of the crew, or in Ludwig’s cabin, I suppose. Take your pick.”

“I’ll bunk with Luddy...” Gilbert said, his fists curled at his sides. “I need to make sure he hasn’t gone soft because of the Italian kid of yours. In the meantime, I think I’ll torment that Austrian Princess.” Gilbert leaned against the wall and started throwing comments at the Austrian.

Antonio glanced at Francis, who was gazing longingly at the blond Frenchman behind bars. “And you, Francis? Am I safe to assume you’d rather share a room with two obnoxious Germans-”

“I am  _ Prussian _ , Toni.”

“As if being 3 miles past the border when you were born makes any difference at all,” Antonio snapped. “If you would like to stay with a  _ Prussian _ and a German, be my guest. Otherwise, you can sleep in my cabin. You will be on the floor, though.”

“Awe, we can’t share your bed like we did all those years ago, Tonio?” Francis lulled.

“No. We cannot. Your other option is to sleep with my crew, and God only knows what they smell like.”

“I  _ could _ culture them just a bit, Antonio. They could use it. Such barbaric men...”

“You will do no such thing. I will not have them going soft on me when they are required to pillage the seven seas. These are the best, most fearsome pirates on the ocean. I will not have them going soft.”

“Hey! You definitely do not have the most fearsome crew to sail the seven seas! And if rumors say you are, that’s only because you have Ludwig on your crew, which, if I do say so myself, is an unfair advantage,” Gilbert yelled.

“Yes I am, and we are not debating the subject otherwise. And Francis, you are not  _ culturing _ them. I will not have them going soft.” Not like he feared he would be.

“But Tonio!” Francis whined. “Can’t I just make them smell better and give them good wine?”

“Fine. Get them drunk. Tell me how they react...” Antonio muttered, walking back on deck.

The Captain waved his friends away and observed what went on on deck. There was so much to do, so many people to order around, but his thoughts revolved around the boy in his cabin. He could not return to him, though. He had far too much to do on deck, far too many people to berate. He was sure the majority of his crew would be asleep now, but it did not mean he couldn’t berate the evening watch. They had let two men amble onto his ship without notifying him. There would be hell to pay. But... He didn’t find his usual gusto in his step as he sought out someone to yell at. His thoughts were stuck on the boy... The boy who was asleep in his cabin, who he seemed to yearn and crave. He could not disturb Lovino... He needed sleep and rest. It was the only way he’d heal.

~

The Conquistador walked slowly and quietly into his cabin. He had stayed up the entire night as well as the day to follow. It had been a long stretch of wakefulness, and his crew didn’t seem to help. No matter how fearsome they seemed, they all had birds for brains. Francis and Gilbert were no help, either. He couldn’t recall what crazed idea had led him to allow those two onto his ship. It was surely and idiotic one. The two not only go his entire crew drunk just as the sun set, but they also got them singing and  _ dancing _ . This sort of behavior was not usually tolerated on his ship. He’d let it slide for the evening, but as soon as the sun was up, the yelling would commence. If they felt the need to become  _ cultured _ on Francis’ shit win, then they’d reap the consequences, those being a nasty hangover and their Captain’s wrath. Neither would hold any sort of delight.

Antonio shut the door of his cabin quietly and leaned against it, releasing a large sigh. He was finally back to peace and quiet after a day of hell. He was finally back to the place where his thoughts had wandered when he didn’t keep them in check. Lovino lay on Antonio’s bed. His eyes were closed and his breaths were soft. He seemed to still be asleep. The Spaniard walked over to him and slowly placed a palm to his forehead. He wasn’t too feverish, so he figured it was safe to assume that the boy’s wounds were not infected. He allowed a smile to creep onto his lips, but the moment was not brief enough.

“Do you find it thrilling to play doctor and smile down creepily at younger men? You’re a perverted bastard...” Lovino muttered, his lids barely cracked.

Antonio flicked the boy on the forehead petulantly. “I was only checking to see if you were feverish. As far as I can tell, you are not, and therefore you can leave my cabin. You are dismissed.”

Lovino’s brow wrinkled from the flick but immediately shot up at the thought of moving.

“You expect me to move... right now?” Lovino asked in a small voice.

“That is what the term ‘dismissed’ means, is it not?”

Lovino nodded briefly and began to push himself off of the bedding. He only made it a few inches before his shaking limbs collapsed beneath him.

“Your words are strong, but you yourself are weak. I’d be careful in the future. Your actions lead you to such situations in which you are left vulnerable.” Antonio leaned in closer to the boy and brushed some of his hair back from his forehead with his ringed fingers once more. “You don’t have a fever, but that might not always be the case. Your body doesn’t seem to have any infections, but I want to keep it that way. If you can, come lay down on my desk. I’m going to clean and bind your wounds.”

Lovino made another attempt to sit up, and Antonio sat and watched. He was already showing plenty of kindness. He needn’t show anymore. The boy grimaced as he tried to lift himself for the second time. His arms collapsed beneath him and he didn’t move again.

“Can’t you stop being an ass and help me? I’m in pain,” Lovino retorted, his teeth gritted with pain.

Something tugged at Antonio’s heart strings. It might have been the pitiful state Lovino was in. It could have been the sound of agony in his voice. All Antonio knew was that he was instantly helping Lovino from the bed. He walked him over to his desk which was still clear from the day previous. He laid the boy down and took up a bottle of rum from where he had left it earlier.

“Brace yourself. This will hurt.”

Antonio poured the alcohol over the boy’s back. Scabs had already started to form over the raw skin. He hoped it was a sure sign that he would not receive any sort of life threatening infection. All the while as Antonio cleaned the wounds, Lovino squirmed. He made an effort to keep quiet. The Captain assumed that he no longer wanted to appear weak.

“How do you know how to do this?” Lovino asked in a small voice, his teeth gritted.

“It’s simple...” he muttered, grabbing some clean cloth from a nearby cabinet. He grabbed an assortment of herbs, as well as a mortar, pestle, and fresh water.

“But you knew I didn’t have any infections just because of the temperature of my forehead.”

“The edges of the wounds would have been red if they were. Seeing as they are not, you have no infection.”

“And you know that, too.  _ How _ ?”

Antonio sighed as he set the items next to the boy. He was avoiding the boy’s questions like wildfire. He did not want to brush those topics. They were too painful.

“You can’t just-”

“I can do as I wish when I wish. This is  _ my _ ship. I don’t want to hear your questions. Be quiet.”

Lovino fell silent, and Antonio took up the herbs, picking through them. He put a few into the mortar and ground them into a powder, after, he added a small amount of water and mixed it a bit more until it was a greenish-brown paste. He removed his many rings from his fingers and took the paste into his hand, slowly spreading it along the boy’s back. His skin felt raised and welted beneath his fingertips. He heard the boy sigh in relief as the soothing substance touched his wounds. A smile tugged onto the Captain’s mouth. He found that he was smiling more and more as the days went on. This boy was changing him in some way. Upon noticing this, his smile fell.

“You know about this, how to do this. Tell me.”

Antonio’s finger hesitated on the boy's skin for a moment as he closed his eyes. He let a sigh escape his lips. His fingers went back to work again as he began to speak. “When I was young...”

“You’re still rather young...” Lovino stated.

Antonio was flattered but now was not the time. “Shut up,” he snapped. He began again a moment later. “When I was  _ younger _ , I thought I could save the world, I  _ wanted _ to save the world. I became a physician, a doctor, at the age of twenty. I was good, but I was by no means amazing. Still, I was proud. That same year, influenza swept Spain. It wiped out most of the kingdom. I appealed to the King, asking him for help. His people were dying, and all we needed was medicine. We could get some from China. Maybe England. Somewhere. I was turned away. I went back again and again... Each time I was turned away. I had family at home I cared about. I wanted to protect them from the disease... But I couldn’t. My sister caught the influenza, and after trying to help her to no avail, a final time I went back. In order to stop my pestering and my requests, he imprisoned me. Claimed I was harassing him. I was behind bars for what seemed like years, but it was only a month... In that time, she died. She died holding my mother’s hand. She was only sixteen....”

Tears had formed in the corners of Antonio’s eyes, and he dashed them away with the back of his clean hand.

Lovino seemed to want to avoid the bitter sections of the story. He didn’t want to be touched by its sadness. “You were a doctor?” The Captain nodded, rubbing the salve on the boys back once again. He hadn’t realized he had stopped while he was telling his story. “If you were a doctor, then why the hell did you become a pirate, bastardo?”

“I became a pirate because I wanted to protect the common folk from people like the King, the rich, selfish bastards that sit on their thrones and run our beautiful countries. They make poor decisions that get their people killed. I thought by becoming a pirate, I’d help them.”

“Then why did you take us?”

“Sit up,” Antonio said, wiping his hand clean on a rag.

The boy complied, slowly sitting up on the edge of the desk. Antonio grabbed the clean fabric from where he had left it on the desk.

“Hold your hands on your head.” Once again, the boy did as he was asked. Antonio began to wrap the fabric around his waist and chest to cover the wounds.

“Answer my question,” Lovino grumbled.

Antonio stepped in front of the boy and kept wrapping him in the soft, clean fabric. Ludwig had wrapped Antonio in the same substance many times before. “My views have changed and skewed over the years,” he said quietly attempting to concentrate on what his hands were doing. “The practice of being a doctor was not for me, and neither was being a kind pirate that helped his people. I realized I am not kind enough for those acts. I no longer fight for anyone but myself and those who ask me for help. Of all of the people I tried to save from the monarchy, all turned me away. They were afraid. They trusted their King to protect them, when in reality, he’d send them to their graves at a moment’s notice.” Antonio’s voice grew quiet as he continued on. His words were grave and devoid of emotion. “If they didn’t care what the monarchy was doing to them, then why should I?”

“Because you believed in something noble.”

The Captain laughed. “Noble? That word has no meaning to me.”

“Then why did you help me?”

“You’re money to me,” Antonio said, confirming the boy’s suspicion from the night previous. His words were all lies, though. He knew he had to help the boy. It wasn’t right to hurt him like that... To let him suffer. Still, Antonio put on his charade. “I can’t have you dying on me, can I?”

Those amber eyes saw directly through him. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Then your mind has changed. You wouldn’t be this kind-”

“Enough!” Antonio snapped. “I have no reason for you other than the money you and your brother bring me.”

The words slipped from his lips before he could catch them. They irritated the Captain, but he ignored it. He needed to be cruel. He could not become soft. He merely tied off the fabric and stepped away. He could not be weak. These thoughts and feelings that Lovino brought on made him weak. It was a feeling he never wanted to feel again. Helpless and incompetent...

“Do you feel pain?” the Captain asked, helping the boy back into bed.

“No. I feel numb,” Lovino replied.

“Good. It’s working then.” Antonio took his coat off the hanger in his wardrobe and slipped it over his arms. He replaced his rings on his fingers and opened the door of his cabin. “Get some sleep. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow. Long days ahead of you for the next few weeks.”

Antonio left the room and walked out onto the deck. The moon was high in the sky. It showed a little light in its crescent form, but the captain did not care. He preferred to be shrouded in darkness. He walked slowly to the hull of the ship and sat on the ledge. His green eyes wandered to the sky. They focused on the stars above him. In all of their majesty and beauty, the stars held so much mystery. They had secrets. They had seen so much, but locked within their fiery glow were their stories. They never told them, and they never released them, just as the eyes of that young boy... His eyes held so much in their amber and green pools. Antonio was sure they held tales of woe and bravery, happiness and depression, pain and suffering. For some reason, he found himself drawing nearer. He wanted to know every story. He craved to know the secrets the of the boy behind those perfect voids of color. He could not explain why it was so sudden, his attraction to the boy over the last few days. He only knew that each mystery had to be explained and each lock opened or he would never feel the satisfaction of living. There was no reason behind this, and he refused to admit it was something more than his instincts as a conquistador that made him want to know this information. And with the short period of time in which the boy would be living on his ship, he had to find out fast.


	4. Four

_ Antonio _

At least a week had passed since the incident with the boy and his crew. His wounds were healing. He had regained plenty of his mobility. His moods had even improved. But one thing hadn’t changed. The Captain was cruel to him. At any moment he had, he sent the boy to do more work. Scrub the deck, help the cook, do the dishes, take stock of the cargo down below. He wanted to the boy in his cabin as little as possible. He had been holed up there ‘working’ for many days. He was avoiding the boy. He brought too many unwanted memories to mind.

The door to his cabin crashed open and his head shot up. In walked Gilbert and Francis. He sighed and put down the quill that resided in his hand for absolutely no reason and rubbed at his eyes.

“What are you two still doing here?” he asked with a resigned sigh. “I could have sworn you got off with your ships this morning.”

“We did, and now we’re back, mon copain,” Francis said, sitting with flourish.

“You’re going out tonight. You’ve been hiding inside of your damn room for days. Because of what? Some kid? Get up. We’re going to port. Bring the crew, bring the kid.  _ Do _ something,” Gilbert demanded.

“I’m staying right here and so is the crew. We’re going to port to get supplies, then I have plan to attack a ship from Britain’s Royal Navy that is in the south on business.”

“You can do that do that any other day. They’re always sending shit out of Port Royal,” the albino protested.

“I’m attacking that ship and that is final.”

Gilbert let out one more futile groan of frustration and fell silent. Antonio picked up his quill and resumed staring at the blank parchment in front of him. He was bored, but he could account for nothing, predict nothing if they were to go to port aside from the undeniable and inevitable event of his drunkenness. He sighed and glanced upward only to find Francis exchanging knowing looks and nods. Antonio cleared his throat and raised his brows at the two.

“Is there something you need to tell me?”

“Tonio, we have some important news to tell you...” Gilbert began. “Francis and I are sorry to admit this, but-”

“ _ I’m _ not  _ terribly _ sorry,” Francis said.

“Shut up.  _ I’m _ sorry to admit this, Toni, but we’ve come to the conclusion that you are in fact gay.”

The Captain looked at the two of his friends, perplexed. “You’ve known me for years, and you’re only deciding this now?”

“We’ve known you for years, and you’ve never once slept with a woman,” Francis stated, crossing his right leg over his left. “Besides, I have a knack for guessing these things, mon copain. I’ve been suspecting this for a while.”

“Just because you enjoy sleeping with men does not mean  _ I _ do,” Antonio snapped. “Besides, what woman do I need? I have my beloved  _ Anna Maria _ .”

“Tonio, that’s just unhealthy. You’re in love with a  _ ship _ ,” Gilbert stated.

“And that concludes that I’m gay?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“Does not!”

“Then come to port, Tonio! Go sleep with one of the beautiful local girls!” Francis urged. “You’re a handsome devil like myself. I’m sure you could easily get one.”

“I don’t want to,” the Captain said.

“Because you’re gay, and the only person you want to sleep with is that kid. Face, Toni. Embrace it,” Gilbert said, making an attempt to sound wise.

“Am not,” Antonio protested.

“Then prove it. Prove you’re not queer like Francis.” ((Sorry for derogatory language.))

The Frenchman was unaffected by the comment. He merely shrugged Gilbert off and looked to Antonio with a promising stare.

Antonio loosed a groan and gave a reluctant nod. “Fine. But on one condition. You have to babysit Austrian Princess, your French informant, and the older Italian.”

“Why not the younger one?” Gilbert asked.

“I’m sure your brother will have both his eyes and hands all over him.”

“I hate to admit this to you, Gilbert,” Francis lulled, “but from the way Ludwig looks at that boy... I can tell he’s in love.”

“Bullshit! You know nothing!”

“Believe as you wish, mon copain, but believe this. I know.”

“Remind me again why we have to babysit?” Gilbert asked, shooting Francis a look as if daring him to return to the previous subject.

“Because I can’t just bring them with me and then go off with a girl.” The words felt sour coming from the Spaniard’s mouth. He didn’t want to waste an important life experience on a tavern girl. “I don’t want to bring them at all. I can’t leave them on the ship because your little lover seems crafty enough to break out with the other three in tow. So you’re staying here and babysitting.”

“So, it’s not an option to bring them with?” Francis asked.

“No.”

“Toni, what good is drinking if it’s not with your two best mates?” Gilbert asked, attempting to sway the stern look on Antonio’s face.

The Captain knew he had had many good days when he was younger. When they were fifteen, the had met and gone backpacking across the countrysides of France, Spain, and Prussia with what little money they had. They drank, sang, laughed, and wreaked havoc across those countrysides... When they couldn’t afford an inn, they slept on whatever hillside they could find. When they came across a farm, they worked it for a few days just to fill their stomachs. For them, it was a period of freedom and blissful ignorance. Antonio had yet to know pain and loss. Francis hadn’t learned the disciplines of the military. Gilbert had hardly taken responsibility for anything in his life aside from his little brother. Antonio craved those days again, the days where he only worried about meals and where to sleep. Gilbert was trying to bring those back, and unfortunately, his friend was winning.

“You two are responsible for the other three. And you best keep an eye on both the Italian and your little Frenchman, Francis. They’re both crafty. Gilbert, you watch the Austrian.”

“Why do I have to watch two of them?” Francis protested.

“Because you brought the informant along. He’s your responsibility. Besides, I trust you more than I do Gilbert with those two.”

“Hey! I am  _ so _ responsible. I could watch the Italian.”

“I don’t care  _ who  _ watches him, but if you allow him to escape, you’ll not only go after him, but you’ll also be paying me his weight in gold,” Antonio snapped, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Make that twice his weight. He’s light...”

“Done,” Gilbert said with a smirk.

“Why do you need more money, mon copain? You are plenty rich,” Francis asked.

“I need to pay someone off,” he muttered, looking back to the papers on his desk. The document before him was blank. “My funds for that might need to be limitless.”

“Who?” they asked in unison.

“The Turk...” he said, setting down his quill after the extended period of holding it. “Augustus Vargas is thinking of hiring his services, and the Turk’s only loyalty is to gold. He’d hunt me down in a moment after I return those boys if it meant buying the rest of his life’s freedom and wealth.”

“You’re afraid of him?” Francis asked.

“No,” the Captain snapped. “I’m just cautious. I will not fall to his hand. I will not fall to those in power. I can’t allow it, and if the Turk works for Augustus Vargas...”

“Antonio, it’s unhealthy for you to hate this much? What happened to the carefree kid we used to know. I swear. You become more badass, but you also get scarier,” the albino muttered.

“Times have changed,” the Spaniard said with a shrug. “I’ve changed.”

“Mon copain, it has been eight years,” Francis whispered. “In those eight years, your morals have changed. You’d never hurt anyone before...”

“Yes, and? Francis, Gilbert. I’ve changed, and my morals have changed. I’m not some naive child anymore. Do me a favor and tell me something different for once. You don’t seem to tell me anything but what I am doing wrong. You tell me every little nuance in my life is unhealthy. For once, why don’t you tell me what I am doing right?”

“I’ll tell you what you can do right tonight. You can let go for one night, Tonio, mon copain, and you can go to port.”

~

They reached the cove and port for most of the pirate activity of the Mediterranean sea just as the sun was setting. They had reached  _ Amissus ad Portum _ .* It was one of the few scattered safe havens for people of his kind, pirates. It was hidden on the coast of Italy. He had been coming there to resupply for years. Now he had come for a night of frivolity.

The Captain’s crew had already dispersed throughout the port. All that remained were the eight of them. Ludwig was in charge of watching the younger Italian, Feliciano was his name. Francis had the older of the pair and his little informant. Gilbert was keeping an eye on the Austrian Princess. And so their night began...

_ Ludwig _

**_The Tale of Tomatoes and Missing Schnapps_ **

Ludwig had not been expecting to see his older brother over the course of the last week, but he had just appeared from nowhere. He should have seen it coming when Gilbird landed upon his shoulder, but in the heat of the moment, he had thought nothing of it.

Words were exchanged upon Gilbert’s arrival. They had argued over Ludwig’s intentions with the young Italian named Feliciano. The problem was... He didn’t really know. The Italian was just a light in a very dark world. He was a beacon of happiness. He always laughed, always smiled. Ludwig craved that glow in his eyes. Feliciano didn’t see him as a scary brute like most others did. He saw past his façade. Ludwig only wished that the boy did not have to go through some of these horrors that he faced.

Antonio, his best friend, had stolen the boy from his home. No. Ludwig had stolen him... He had roused him from his bed and led him from his home. The boy was ghost white, and Ludwig must have seemed so frightening.

Those days had passed, though, and Ludwig found himself craving the boy’s presence. He was so young, only sixteen, but he was also so alluring. Ludwig was five years his senior, but age didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was that he was around, his light Feliciano. They were at port, and he was under Ludwig’s care. They could go anywhere, and Ludwig decided a little place where his older brother was unlikely to go.

“Ludwig!” Feliciano cried through waves of excitement. “Look at this! We’re on  _ land! _ I missed the land! Oh, Ludwig, where are we going?”

“We’re going to a small place to have a drink. Life on the seas is stressful...” Ludwig trailed off, his blue eyes finding the little Italian.

“Will they have wine? Grandpa lets me drink wine. I like wine,” he mused.

“Ja, Feliciano, they will have wine.”

The boy smiled happily to himself, and Ludwig couldn’t help but watch him. They reached the bar after a few minutes. When they entered, they sat at a table in the center of the room. A lady in a tight corset took their orders. Feliciano got his wine, and Ludwig stuck with rum, a look of dismay reading on his features.

“What do you like to drink?” Feliciano asked suddenly. “You don’t seem to like what you ordered.”

“Nothing you would like. Nothing they have here,” he replied.

“But what is it?”

“Schnapps.”

“Can I try it sometime?”

“It’s an acquired taste.”

“I still would like to try it.”

“Ja, you can,” Ludwig said with rueful hope, “one day.”

They sat and talked amicably, and Ludwig never noticed how easily Feliciano emptied his glass. He must have at least gone through a bottle. He didn’t care about the cost. He simply did not want the Italian to drink more than he was able. He looked upon Feliciano with a worried expression as he tried to lift himself from the table.

“I need to use the bathroom,” he said, wobbling slightly.

“Feliciano, are you okay?” Ludwig asked.

“Yeah... I’m just a little dizzy,” he said.

The Italian stood up slowly and stumbled. He caught himself on the table, but Ludwig was at his side with a steadying grasp almost immediately.

“Are you sure you are alright?”

“Mhmm...” the Italian assured him. And then he stopped. “Nope. I am not okay. I feel sick...”

“Come. I’m taking you upstairs...” 

Ludwig picked Feliciano up in his arms and carried him to the bar. He spoke to the bartender briefly and paid for a room for the night. He carried the Italian upstairs, ignoring the stares he received from the other patrons in the bar. Up the stairs, he carried little Feliciano up he was at the door of his room. He opened it. The room was a little shabby, but it’d do. He laid Feliciano down and stood by his bedside. The boy was already falling asleep. Ludwig brushed his hair from his forehead and smiled gently.

“You shouldn’t drink so much. You’ll get sick...” the German said softly.

“I’ll be okay, Ludwig,” the boy replied.

He nodded and made a moved to leave. “I’ll be back soon. I’m going to go get you some water. Stay here.”

As Ludwig began to move, Feliciano’s warm fingers caught his hand.

“Please, stay with me, Ludwig, until I fall asleep.”

Ludwig nodded and sat down on the bed beside Feliciano. “Okay...” he said softly.

The Italian curled into the German and smiled softly. Ludwig smiled back. He loved the Italian. Feliciano may not have known it just yet, but this small boy held his heart.

_ Francis _

**_The Tale of Roses and Wine_ **

Francis was in charge of two tonight under the orders of one of his two best friends. He did not mind. He’d finally learned whether or not the Spaniard was gay. He was almost positive he was. He hoped for it.

The two prisoners had been left upstairs in separate bedrooms. Antonio figured they’d help each other escape if they were in the same. He left his petit informateur** in his own bedroom while the Austrian Musician was conveniently in Gilbert’s. Francis was headed back towards his room. He had left the other male alone for only a few minutes. He carried two glasses of wine in his hands and a bottle under his arm. He wanted his Mathieu, he craved him, but he had no idea how the younger of the two would react. He could turn Francis away entirely.

He walked upstairs towards the room where he left his beloved. Carefully he opened the door and looked upon his Frenchman.

“Mathieu!” he said happily.

The male remained silent.

Francis sighed slightly and held out a glass to him. “Please, mon chér***, take the glass, as a token of peace.”

The male took the glass of wine with his free hand. The other was cuffed to the metal frame of the bed. He took a sip but still said nothing.

“Please, speak to me, mon chér,” Francis pleaded.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

This was a start. “But why?”

“Let’s think. You have locked me away on a pirate’s ship. Now you are dragging me around with your crazed group of companions. I was perfectly happy in the Italian Villa where I was staying.”

“Where every French captain had sent his men to look for you,” Francis said.

“I would have evaded them.”

“But you could not evade me. I am the best. I am loyal to my king.”

“Yet you don’t turn me over to him. You are in league with pirates. For Christ’s sake,  _ vos meilleurs amis sont des pirates!**** _ ”

“But I have been loyal to my king all the same. Until now.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s so complex.” Francis emptied his glass of wine in a few swift gulps and poured himself a new one. “I just feel different.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“But I feel like I do. I feel like I’ve known you for a thousand years.” Francis drew closer to the blonde on the bed. He was sitting beside him now. “I want to know you for more.”

Francis sighed and closed his eyes.

“If you care, then you would have let me go.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I can’t.”

“Why.”

“ _ Parce que... Parce que Je t’aime, bon sang! _ ”*****

There was a shattering of glass and Francis was pulled in close. His blue eyes were wide as he looked at the narrow distance between himself and Matthew. Their lips were locked, and Francis could not believe it. His lips formed perfectly to Matthew’s. It felt so right. They pulled away from each other. Matthews violet eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the room.

“What... I thought...” Francis muttered.

“You said you were a brilliant Captain who managed to capture me. How can someone such as yourself not expect the unexpected in instances such as capturing my heart?”

Matthew kissed Francis again, softly at first and progressively with more passion. Francis was ecstatic. This was whom for which his world now revolved. He wrapped his arms around Matthew. They came closer and closer. Shirts were lost and marks were left on porcelain skin, but nothing more happened. They laid down before each other and stared at one another for the longest time. Matthew never asked to be released from his bonds. His reason was that he wished to be as close to Francis as possible. There was no other thought put towards the matter. Francis made sure that the last thing he saw before he fell asleep was the beautiful face of his beloved Mathieu.

~

The bed was cold and devoid of any comfort. Francis stretched his long fingers to find the space beside him empty. Matthew was gone. The keys to the cuffs that had bound him lay on what once had been Matthew’s pillow. Francis closed his eyes and sighed. He had been so naive. It had all been a lie.

_ Matthew _

Matthew sat in the alley just beside the hotel where they had been staying, a cigar between his fingers. He was utterly confused. The flamboyant idiot upstairs had said he loved him, but that was something Matthew couldn’t believe. No one loved him. He had never allowed someone to. His world had allowed no one but himself inside. It was a very exclusive circle. He wasn’t keen on having relationships, but the man upstairs seemed to change everything. He seemed to care about Matthew, unlike so many others. He looked longingly back at the door and sighed.

He had to go back.

_ Francis _

_ Matthew was in his arms. Their bodies were naked, touching so close at the hips, joined even, by sex. Their breaths were ragged and torn. Everything was perfect. Every gasp, every lustful moan, every breath that was taken. Francis relished in it all. He allowed his hands to glide over Matthew’s slender yet muscular frame. He was all he had ever wanted, all he had ever needed. _

Francis woke suddenly from his dream when a breeze blew open the curtains in his room. The morning sun crept in and forced him awake. He squeezed his eyes shut and shifted his body to face the emptiness beside him. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to get up. He knew Antonio would leave him behind just to teach him a lesson, but he  _ couldn’t _ move. He had no will. The Frenchman opened his blue eyes and came face to face with Matthew. He closed his eyes again. His dreams were plaguing him with images. He woke and still believe Matthew was there...

He heard a soft groan and warm fingers reached out to him. Francis’ eyes shot open. The man beside him was not a figment of his imagination and his dreams.

“You stayed...” Francis whispered, staring at Matthew.

Matthew opened his eyes slowly and gave a small smile. “Because I believe you can teach me to love and to love you...”

Francis pulled Matthew close. He had never been happier.

_ Gilbert _

**_The Tale of the Drunk and His Musician_ **

Gilbert sat at the bar of the same inn his friends were at. They thought they’d been sly and found somewhere he wouldn’t go, but he knew they were scattered about, somewhere in this little inn. He didn’t want to find them. His mind was elsewhere. His friends didn’t concern him at this time.

Gilbert gestured to the bartender and got another drink. They didn’t have as strong of vodka in the south, but it’d have to do. He needed some sort of alcohol running through him. These days, it was all that seemed to give him rational thoughts. One irrational one kept penetrating his sober mind, and for the time being, he wanted it gone. He didn’t want to think of the Austrian musician that was locked in a room on the second floor, but even the alcohol he had drunk hadn’t cleared his mind. Half of a glass wasn’t enough. He stared into his cup and sighed. Here he was, yet again, attempting to drink away his problems. The Austrian Princess was stuck on his mind, and no amount of alcohol would rid himself of the thoughts. The Austrian Princess was so frustrating with his pompous attitude. He acted as though he was better than everyone, when in fact, he was just a prisoner. And Gilbert knew he was scared. He could see it in those violet eyes of his. Behind that façade of his, behind that attitude that reeked of privilege, the Austrian was scared. He had probably never left the comfort of his home or of his lovely little ship where they had scooped him up from. In the few times that Gilbert had come to visit him in his cell over the last couple of weeks, Gilbert had seen how the musician had shrunk into the corner. He was afraid of his surroundings. He was afraid of everything. Gilbert was only visiting him and giving him thought because he pitied him. Yes. That was it. He pitied the poor fool because he was locked in the clutches of supposedly the most fearsome pirate of the seven seas. That cocky bastard, Antonio. Still, Gilbert could not shake the feeling he had gotten from the look the Austrian had given him upon their first meeting. It was a mix of anger and desperation. Those violet eyes... They were actually quite beautiful. As a whole, the Austrian was quite handsome. Whatever wife he had back home was lucky to have him.

Gilbert paused. When had the Austrian gone from frustrating and pompous to beautiful and handsome? This alcohol, no matter how much he’d actually drank, must have been getting to his head. H could have sworn this was only his first glass, but he did have the tendency to lose count sometimes.

Gilbert stood from his seat at the bar after swallowing the last bit of his glass of crappy vodka. He left the glass there along with a few coins as payment. He walked towards the stairs and made his way up. He wasn’t too wobbly. He’d been worse before. He remembered it. Well, no, he didn’t. Those nights were all a blur, but he felt that this one wouldn’t be so bad. He walked down the hall, his hand trailing along the wall. He found the door where he had left the Austrian Princess earlier that evening and unlocked it. He looked around for a moment. The Austrian was no there. At least not where he left him. He could have sworn he was on the bed the last time he checked. Gilbert scanned the room again and saw the Austrian near the window. Actually, no near the window but in the window. The Austrian Princess was hanging halfway out of the window. He had tied his coat as well as a few blankets and sheets together and was climbing out of the window. From the look on his face, he was terrified. Gilbert chuckled softly and stalked over to the window. He grabbed the musician by the collar of his shirt and hauled him back inside.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Princess? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Gilbert demanded.

“No. I’m  _ trying _ to get out of here!” the Austrian spat.

“Well, with the little skill you have, that second story drop would have killed you.”

“It would not.”

“Sure it wouldn’t.”

“You and your insane friends have kept me hostage for weeks. And for what?”

“No idea,” Gilbert said with a shrug. “Not my problem. You’re Toni’s Austrian Princess to deal with.”

“I have a name.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have a name. It’s Roderich.”

Gilbert paused. He hadn’t ever thought to ask the Austrian his name. Roderich. The Prussian smiled slightly.

“Well, Princess Roderich, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Why? What is your need with me? And take a few steps back, you barbarian. I can  _ smell _ the alcohol on your breath.”

Gilbert’s smile widened. He hadn’t realized how close they were. He had hauled the man back in, but the proximity between them had not lessened. The best part. The Princess named Roderich thought he was drunk. Well, he could easily lay up to those expectations. He stepped closer to Roderich, his face even closer.

“I don’t think I will, Little Princess,” he said softly.

The Austrian stepped back and Gilbert stepped closer. He kept coming closer until Roderich was falling back onto the rickety bed. He didn’t know what he was doing, why he was suddenly like this, but it was thrilling.

“What are you doing?” Roderich asked, falling back onto the mattress. “Stop it. You’re insane. Stop. Get away from me.”

Gilbert gave a toothy grin as the Austrian pushed at him. He merely took hold of his wrists and pinned them above his head. He sat on his waist and straddled him, his face inching closer and closer. His lips could have easily brushed the younger man’s, but Gilbert paused when he heard Roderich whimper. Gilbert’s grip tightened slightly before it went slack. He leaned back, looking at the Austrian’s violet eyes.

“What are you doing?” Roderich asked.

“Stopping like you wanted,” Gilbert replied, confused. “I may have the scent of alcohol on my breath, Roderich, but I am by no means drunk. I have control over myself. I wouldn’t do anything to you that I didn’t want to do, and I don’t want to violate you. I’d rather have your consent.”

Roderich looked stunned. Gilbert felt stunned. He had just admitted to wanting the Austrian. He had control of his actions. He was not drunk. He  _ wanted _ the Austrian Princess in front of him. He wanted Roderich. He had tried for so long to convince himself that he was not queer like Francis. And for some reason, he felt himself caring for the frightened man who had gotten caught at seas. He wanted to  _ protect _ him for some reason. Teasing him was fun, yes, but he didn’t want to see the fear in his beautiful violet eyes anymore.

“Believe me... I don’t think I want to stop,” he said softly. “I don’t want to stop, but I don’t want you to be afraid of me either... I can’t stand that look in your eyes.”

“Then don’t,” Roderich said.

“Excuse me?”

“Then don’t stop.”

Gilbert paused. Did the Austrian want him? Did he mistake the look of lust his violet eyes for fear? He had to assume yes, especially from the bulge in the Austrian’s pants.

“Well... Shit...” Gilbert muttered. “Fuck restraint.”

Gilbert leaned in again, his hands on Roderich’s wrists. He pinned him down and kissed the younger male. It was bliss, better than any woman he had ever been with, and it was all just a kiss, a kiss that changed Gilbert’s look on life forever.

_ Antonio _

**_The Tale of the Spanish Captain and His Woe_ **

Antonio was drunk off his ass. There was no simpler way to put it. He had come into port that afternoon, entered an inn that doubled as a tavern, and drank away his frustrations. He felt like Gilbert, but he didn’t care. He’d rather rid himself of his guilty, heavy thoughts. There was a strange pain that lingered inside of him as well. A pain that a certain Italian had caused him.

“So beautiful,” Antonio had told the bartender. “So beautiful, yes to inexplicably unavailable. They don’t understand how I feel. Hell,  _ I _ don’t understand how I feel. My friends are convinced that I am in love, but I am sure that I am not. I can’t be in love. I am fearsome. I am a pirate. I don’t love...”

“Did you think of distancing yourself from this person?” the bartender asked. He was a tall man, tanned and handsome. His accent was Greek. He was probably from some country around that area. He didn’t really care.

“I tried that, believe me. And that’s what got me here. My friends are convinced that in order to get over this solitary state that I’m in, I need to have sex with a total stranger. But. I don’t want to! I want my Italian. I don’t want some random girl off the streets. I want meaning... Not casual sex. But I don’t even understand my own feelings for this Italian. Like... I don’t know. I feel so different around them. And it can’t be love. Like I said, I don’t love. But the Italian makes me different.”

“Is different okay?” the Greek asked.

“I don’t know. I feel like it makes me weaker, and that I don’t want. How will I survive if I appear weak?” Antonio grabbed the bottle the bartender had left for him on the counter and took a quick swig. “If love is a vulnerability, then I don’t want it. Not one bit. I have a reputation to uphold. Besides. Who else do I need? I have my beloved  _ Anna Maria _ .”

“Sir, if I’m not mistaken, isn’t that a ship?” the Greek asked.

“Yes. She’s a ship. But she’s special to me.”

“That’s unhealthy.”

“Yes, I know. I've been told, but I don’t care. She won’t hurt me. I won’t lose her. This person has to leave eventually. This Italian is just money in my pocket. I don’t want to love this person and then have them leave. Everyone leaves or dies... I don’t want that and I don’t mean to be so cruel, either, but I can’t allow myself to get close to them.”

“You’re an idiot. If you care for him, then I suggest you take advantage of the time you have with him.”

“Him? I didn’t say...”

“I know.”

“Then how?”

“I just know. Have a good night, sir.”

The bartender walked away, leaving Antonio alone with his thoughts. He was confused. He wasn’t in love. He couldn’t be. His feelings were just muddled. He was just so confused. He would never marry and he would never fall in love. He was not Francis. Antonio sighed gently and stood from his seat at the bar. He was too drunk to think clearly. He had already rambled off to the poor bartender. He just needed to go to bed. He’d deal with Francis and Gilbert’s harassment in the morning.

Antonio stumbled up the stairs to the top part of the inn. He was faced with a hall of doors and honestly, he could not remember which door was his. He had his key, and he could find it that was, but that would take so long. Still, it was all he could do. Antonio started trying doors, his hands shaky. He could not remember the last time he had drank that much, and he was regretting it terribly. Finally, he found a door that opened to a familiar room. Antonio was about to enter when a bottle flew near his head and shattered against the wall. He hadn’t expected it. Hell, he was hoping he'd be greeted by an empty room. What was inside was a shocker.

“Damn... That fucking frog only gave me one of those...” an irritated voice said. “Bring me another so I can throw it at you, bastardo.”

The Italian. Lovino. He was sitting on the bed in his room. At least he thought it was his room. Had Francis left the kid there? He had so abandoned his duties. Antonio would have to get him back later.

Another bottle came flying, this time, aimed straight for his head. He ducked quickly then looked behind him to see the bottle smashed against the hallway wall. 

“I knew I had another one of those hiding around here... But you  _ had _ to go and duck. Bastard.”

“I’m not just going to let you hit me with a bottle. What the hell are you even drinking? Who gave you alcohol?”

“Your dumb bastard of a blond friend told me that if I didn’t tell you he had left as soon as we got he that he’d give me a couple bottles of wine. I agreed, but the bastard was stupid enough to believe me,” Lovino said with a shrug. “That bastard probably got me drunk just so I wouldn’t get away. Figured I’d know how to get out of this eventually.” Lovino lifted his wrist. A metal shackle connected him to the rickety bed frame. “Little did he know I wouldn’t have run. I don’t know where the fuck I am. But, hey, free wine. Shit wine, but still wine. Now, Bastardo, fucking uncuff me. I want to go take a piss, and I have no intentions of doing it in here.”

Antonio stared at the Italian with a confused expression. And then it hit him. Francis was trying to set them up. He wanted Antonio to sleep with Lovino. Antonio snorted out a dry, humorless laugh that the Italian seemed to take the wrong way.

Another bottle came flying at Antonio, but it hit the wall beside him.

“Don’t laugh at me, bastardo! Have you even listened to a word I’ve said? I need to take a fucking piss.”

Antonio rolled his eyes and advanced towards Lovino. He honestly just wanted the Italian to stop throwing these damn bottles. He had produced a fourth by the time the Spaniard was in front of him. Antonio took hold of the bottle and set it down on the bedside table. Lovino tried to make some attempt to fight him, but the Captain managed to hold him off by grabbing onto his only free wrist.

“Let go of me, you bastard!” Lovino yelled.

“No. Shut up and sit still before you hurt yourself.”

“Right. Before  _ I  _ hurt  _ myself _ . Right. Thanks. Not like you’ve never hurt me before.”

Images of the boy after his lashings raced through the Captain’s mind. He hadn’t wanted that. He hadn’t meant it to happen. “I’m sorry.”

“Bull shit. If you actually meant it, you wouldn’t have sent me to do your dirty work. You would have actually spoken to me,” Lovino spat. “You know, I thought you actually cared. I listened to your little sob story. I thought that there might be something behind that mean and cruel demeanor of yours. But no. There’s only you. And you’re a bastard. I hate you. Stay away from me. You don’t  _ deserve  _ my forgiveness.”

Antonio felt wounded. He didn’t know what to say to the Italian. He had spoken the truth when Antonio had only uttered lies since the moment they’d met.

“No. I don’t. But I truly am sorry. Really. I’m sorry for sending you away. I didn’t mean to hurt you...” Antonio muttered. “My head is just a mess of emotions and feelings towards you that I don’t understand.”

“You have feelings? What feelings could _ you  _ have towards  _ me _ , Bastard?”

The Captain honestly didn’t know. Were they affectionate? Were they full of love? Love was a strong word to Antonio. He had always thought he’d never love. This wasn’t love, was it? No. It wasn’t. It was confusion. The Captain was drunk and confused.

With a deep sigh, he sat beside Lovino, his brows furrowed. “Honestly, I haven’t the slightest clue. I’m confused. I don’t know how to feel around you. I feel regret for what I have done to you, but I know I shouldn’t. I’m a pirate. I don’t regret my actions. I plow through. I don’t have remorse. I don’t care about anyone, but for some reason I find myself caring about every little nuance that is you.”

“You’re a stupid bastard,” Lovino retorted, his words slurred from the amount of alcohol he had consumed already.

“I know.”

“You’re a drunk one, too. Go the fuck away and let me sleep. I don’t want to see you.”

Drowsiness was setting over Antonio’s body and he looked over to the boy. “I’m rather tired... and you’re in my bed... I don’t think I’m going to go. I think I’m going to go to bed.”

“No. Get the fuck out,” Lovino protested.

“I paid for the room. Just shut up and let me sleep...” Antonio muttered, tugging his boots from his feet. He peeled his coat off and hung it on the metal frame of the bed. He looked back to the boy, his green eyes catching amber ones.

Those eyes... They were so filled with emotion. He couldn’t pick out any individual one. Much was hidden behind those pools of amber and green. They stared back at Antonio, taunting him with the secrets they held in their depth. He wanted so desperately to ask the boy to spill those secrets, but he knew his attempts would be vain. Lovino clearly hated him as he had already stated. Antonio knew not how to fix that.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please, just allow me to try and prove I can earn it... To prove that I care for you in some way. Let me prove you wrong... That I’m not heartless.”

Lovino looked at the drunken Captain skeptically. He cautiously nodded before scooting closer to the wall. “I’ll give you a chance, but believe me, bastard. You fuck up once, and you won’t ever earn it...”

Antonio nodded. This was his only chance. He knew this, even in his drunken stupor. It was the way those eyes stared back at him. They told no lies that he could see. The Captain would earn this man’s trust and respect, even if it was the last thing he did. For some reason, he cared about the boy. Maybe it was the fire that was hidden inside of him. Maybe it was just the way he cared about his family despite what he’d gone through. Maybe it was the strength he’d built in his character over the years. Maybe it was because, in a way, he could relate to some of the pain the boy felt. He could relate to some of those sufferings. He did not know. He was drawn to the boy, not because he was a damsel in distress. He was not some hero in their story. No. He was a villain, that he knew, and he was seeking forgiveness from the mighty King on this throne. It was all a mess in his mind, one that wasn’t helped by his drunken manner. He was far too sentimental. He was growing far too attracted to this man for his tastes... But it was happening, and he felt as though he couldn’t stop it.

The male lay down next to the younger, his head falling to the pillow. He fell asleep almost instantly, the lull of the alcohol pulling him under.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Amissus ad Portum: Haven of the Lost
> 
> **Petit Informateur: Little Informant
> 
> ***Mon chér: My dear
> 
> ****Vos meilleur amis sont des pirates: Your best friends are pirates
> 
> *****Parce que Je t’aime, bon sang: Because I love you, damnit
> 
> Sorry if you feel the ending to this chapter was inadequate. I was making an attempt to rewrite it, and I'm not sure it went well... Hopefully so... Give me your feedback.


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